


Bad Drinks and Good Company

by Rybe



Series: Putting the Pieces Back Together [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Banter, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Side Reaper/Soldier: 76, Slow burn like a match in a gas tank
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 12:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11162310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rybe/pseuds/Rybe
Summary: Hanzo hasn't gone on a date in a very long time, but his brother's weird friend seems like an acceptable person. McCree also can't believe Genji never told him the truth: that his brother is really. Really hot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame this fic almost exclusively on my Hanzo obsessed bff- you know who you are. This is your call out post.
> 
> Reading the previous part in the series is probably not 100% necessary, though this does take place some time after the events in Breaking Point and said events will occasionally be referenced. Mostly in regards to Reaper. But I'm pretty sure you can skip it, mostly you need to know that this is post recall and post some other shit happening with Soldier: 76 and Reaper after said recall. (Though I encourage you to check it out if you want!)
> 
> This is also much more lighthearted and silly. And totally none of the ideas I mentioned doing at the end of Breaking Point. Oopse.

“So. A ghost, a cyborg ninja, and a cowboy walk into a bar…”

“McCree. No.”

“‘M’ just sayin’. We make a mighty fine crew.” McCree grinned, as he propped his feet up on the table. Genji huffed and kicked the cowboy’s boots until he yielded and sat in a more civilized manner.

“Don’t be rude,” Genji scolded.

“C’mon we’ve got a whole bar to ourselves! All like…” He looked around their cramped surroundings. “All twenty five or so square feet of it. Live a little.”

They’d taken over a small bar in a quieter, somewhat sketchy corner of Osaka. It was a cozy establishment, with simple, traditional wood furnishings and very little by way of decor. And more importantly for their purposes, no windows. There were only a handful of small tables aside from the bar. Even their small group was enough to keep the place from feeling empty. A bit of extra cash and a couple names was all it took to get the owner to close up shop early. He was probably making more that evening off of them than he would have staying open. 

“Trust me, I spent plenty of hours of my youth living in establishments such as this.”

“And here I thought Jack tended to sound like an old man…” Reaper grumbled as he literally drifted behind the bar, his lower half evaporating into a mist. Though it was almost easy to miss, as he was clad in his customary coat and mask. He always looked like a wraith in that getup whether he was a cloud of nanites or not.

“I can hear you all, you know,” Soldier: 76’s voice came in through their ear pieces. Reaper huffed out half a laugh as he scanned the liquor bottles arranged neatly behind the bar. He began grabbing a few, the claws of his gloves tinking against the glass whenever he made a selection.

“Yeah, yeah...I still can’t believe a six foot tall white guy with a weird visor was the least conspicuous one of this group,” Reaper said, snagging a couple bottles. He set them on the bar, then ducked low, searching. “Where the hell do they hide the ice in this establishment…” he grumbled, mostly to himself.

“Maybe if McCree didn’t feel compelled to only dress like a complete jackass…” 76 added.

“Hey! ‘M sorry, I didn’t know this was part of the deal. Didn’t pack any undercover clothes…”

“At least I got him to leave the spurs at the hotel,” Genji sighed in resignation. He hadn't so much persuaded McCree to leave the spurs as he had threatened the cowboy with bodily injury if he didn't.

“Honestly he probably would have been just as bad even if he had a proper change of clothes. He exudes a weirdo aura,” Reaper said as he apparently gave up on the ice and began mixing himself a drink. He squinted again at the labels of his chosen bottles, and gave each a good sniff before shrugging and beginning to pour them into a tumbler. 

“It’s true,” McCree said with a solemn nod, before pausing, leveling his gaze at Reaper. “Now. How d’you plan on drinkin’ that with your mask there? With a crazy straw?” 

Reaper paused, slowly screwing the cap on the latest bottle of mystery liquor. “It’s not like this mask is glued to my face, McCree…”

McCree chuckled. “Fair ‘nough. Ya know? This is kinda nice. Three of us, back together like this. Kinda like the old days in Blackwatch, runnin’ a mission together,” He said with a distant smile.

“Didn’t you run away from Blackwatch in the middle of the night?” Reaper asked, casually swirling his concoction with a chopstick. 

“Yes. I too left Overwatch for a reason,” Genji said. 

Reaper tipped his mask back just far enough to reveal his sickly gray chin and mouth, which were both luckily free of his usual black necrotic wounds today. He took a sip of his drink, and immediately made a sound reminiscent of a cat trying to dislodge a hairball. He slowly set the glass back down, scrutinizing it. “One of those bottles did not contain what I thought it did…”

“You know, I could just translate the labels for you…” Genji pointed out, drawing a huff from Reaper.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” McCree added on Reaper’s behalf. Reaper nodded in agreement.

“Target is inbound,” 76 interrupted over their earpieces again. “I think.”

“What do you mean you think,” Reaper growled.

“He’s changed his look from the description Genji gave. But I’m pretty sure it’s him. He’s alone, but may be armed.”

“Relax, he’s my brother, not an assassin,” Genji said with a another heavy sigh hearing the tension in 76’s voice.

“Last I heard he was both.”

Genji shrugged, which was a fully unhelpful gesture for communicating over their coms, but it was more or less implied by the silence. 

“When did you get around to patching things up with your brother anyway?” Reaper asked, poking around the bar for more things to add to his drink after sliding his mask back firmly in place.

“It’s a work in progress…” Genji admitted a little hesitantly. Before he could elaborate further there was a quiet knock. Genji hopped to his feet and quickly unlocked the door, before swinging it open with a wide grin. “Ah, brother!” 

“I apologize for my tardiness…” The man in the doorway started, giving Genji a curt nod, before his eyes drifted across the other two occupants of the bar. His expression melted from one of earnestness to utter dismay. “...I have made a mistake.”

“No, Hanzo, you’re at the right place!” Genji reassured his brother, reaching out to grab his shoulder, which Hanzo smoothly dodged.

“The location is not the source of my concern,” Hanzo said curtly, before turning on his heel, and nearly plowing face first into 76, who’d appeared in the doorway behind him. Hanzo recoiled, his hand fluttering to his messenger bag. It seemed 76’s concern he might be armed was founded. Genji gently grabbed Hanzo’s arm before the situation escalated. 

“It’s okay, he’s a friend. They’re all friends,” Genji assured him. Hanzo hesitantly yielded, finally stepping into the bar. 

“I don’t know what else I was expecting…” he muttered under his breath.

McCree tried not to look too curious as he examined their guest, he’d seen pictures of Hanzo and Genji as youths, but had never really gotten a good look at him as an adult, even when Blackwatch was trying to dismantle the Shimada’s criminal empire. To say he was surprised at what he saw would be an understatement. Between the undercut hair, the bridge piercing, and the relaxed but stylish civilian clothes, he looked nothing like the discipline obsessed lump of no fun Genji described to him in the past. Not to mention the strong jaw, sculpted cheekbones, obviously chiseled physique even cloaked as it was in his stylishly casual wool jacket...he was...a sight.

Genji led his brother towards the table with McCree, while 76 secured the door behind them. Hanzo glanced around the establishment looking tense. He didn’t seem jumpy, it was a far more calculated, self assured tension. As if he was simply prepared at any given moment to deftly put any of their faces through the table, including Genji’s.

Genji quickly introduced everyone, doing little to alleviate the sour look on Hanzo’s face, but he still greeted each politely in turn. His eyes continued to flit towards the door where 76 had posted himself as a guard. His anxiety was understandable, they were, after all, gathered in the bar on rather serious and dangerous business.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Reaper rumbled, in what McCree could only assume was supposed to be a welcoming, or perhaps reassuring growl. He held up a bottle sporting a label printed in English. “Whiskey?”

“Sure…” Hanzo replied as he settled into his seat, barely glancing at the bottle.

Reaper poured out a finger of dark amber whiskey, walking around the bar this time before sliding the drink over to Hanzo. Hanzo swirled the liquid and watched it ooze down the sides of the glass in a manner more reminiscent of cough syrup than liquor. 

“Cheap. Whiskey. Do you at least have ice?”

“No.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes with a sigh, and pounded the questionable whisky in one quick go, scowling the whole while. McCree couldn’t suppress his grin.

“Man after my own heart,” McCree crooned with a faint chuckle, his grin growing even wider when he saw the faintest hint of a smile tug at the corners of Hanzo’s mouth. 

“So, you’re a connoisseur of disgusting whiskey?” Hanzo asked, pushing the empty glass away.

“From time to time. Hey, get me a glass of somethin’, Reaps. I’ll go for one of the mystery bottles…” McCree called as Reaper drifted back behind the bar, once again half a cloud of nanites. Hanzo’s eyes only widened slightly as he watched him go.

Genji groaned. “I. Can. Translate. For. You. Idiots.”

“I already explained. It’s more fun this way,” McCree said with a grin as Reaper tapped the chin of his mask, trying to pick a bottle, his clawed glove clicking loudly as he did. 

“I’ve heard legends about of you. The black wraith who showers vengeance on his enemies…” Hanzo said, watching Reaper.

Reaper grunted, selecting a bottle of pale gold liquor. “I also, between showers of vengeance, play bartender, and make artisan goat cheese.” 

Hanzo just stared at him, his face a carefully expressionless mask. “I see.”

McCree leaned forward with a broad smirk, “you heard of me before?”

“No.” The answer was curt and flat.

“Ah…” McCree sank back in his chair, crestfallen, just as Gabe thumped the glass of mystery booze in front of him. He took a sip without even bothering to smell it first, a decision he immediately regretted. He cringed as he swallowed. “What is this?”

Reaper shrugged, while Genji let out a long suffering sigh, unable to tolerate the continued stupidity. He got up and snagged the bottle out of Reaper’s grip before he could return it to its place behind the bar. 

“It’s….” He squinted at the label. Then spun the bottle to look at the back. Then the front again. “It’s...In Cyrillic...” He set the bottle back on the bar, defeated, scowling at Reaper. Reaper shrugged innocently, before returning the bottle to its rightful spot behind the bar.

McCree chuckled. He sniffed the liquid carefully, and gave it another cursory sip. “It tastes like...It tastes like a plum’s rancid asshole mixed with paint thinner.”

“Then stop drinking it!” Hanzo said, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

“I can’t! It’s...it’s growin’ on me…” McCree said, taking another sip.

76 cleared his throat, still standing watch by the door. “I hate to interrupt, but we’re here on business. Can we please get back on track.”

“Yes, we were led to believe you may have some information for us,” Reaper said, even as he plucked yet another bottle off the shelf and began pouring a new glass of mystery liquor. He drifted out from behind the bar again, holding the glass out to 76. Jack’s scowl was plenty evident despite the visor.

“I don’t drink on missions.”

Reaper grabbed one of 76’s hands, and shoved the glass into it. “Live a little,” he purred, before giving Jack’s rear a couple of quick pats and floating away again. 

76 huffed. "Someone's in a mood..."

Jack was, of course, right. They did have business; some rather serious business no less. McCree was still mostly carrying on a partially formal relationship with the newly and illegally reunited Overwatch, despite his Reaper related misdeeds. Several members of Overwatch were exceptionally dubious of having anything to do with Jack and Gabe, but conceded it might be useful this time. Genji hadn’t formally answered the recall at all, and only had intermittent contact with the group. But as fate would have it, they were all more or less focused on the same target at the moment, and joining forces was only natural. 

After Overwatch (and Blackwatch) dismantled the Shimada’s criminal empire, not everyone was captured or imprisoned, Hanzo himself being a prime example. Not to mention some of the members with flimsier cases against them were already being released from prison. For years, of course, the invisible tainted fingers of some of the most influential members had reached outside of the prison walls, continuing to manipulate people and events, despite everyone’s best efforts. 

They had all come to the conclusion that some sinister third party had involved itself in the remnants of the Shimada clan, taking over where they left off, and supporting those who remained. That’s where Hanzo came in.

Over the years the man kept in touch with a few trusted contacts. Though, from the way he spoke of them ‘trust’ was likely not the most accurate descriptor. He had names for them, and could possibly even help arrange meetings...or traps. It sounded like some of the unsavory characters wanted Hanzo, and even Genji, dead. They feared either could potentially rise up and try to rebuild as the "rightful heir" to the crumbled mess that was the Shimada legacy. From the level of disdain in his voice, however, it was plenty obvious to all present Hanzo had no such intentions, and the idea of Genji wanting to try was simply laughable. 

What precise interest Reaper and 76 had in the whole thing still eluded McCree. General do-gooding and peacekeeping did not seem to be their objective. But he was glad to have them around nonetheless. It had become abundantly clear to him that whoever they were hunting were bad players, even if he couldn’t quite nail down the method to their madness.

Despite Hanzo’s original reservations, the meeting went well. By the end they’d come up with a seed of a plot, and plans to meet again once they’d each taken care of a few matters. After a couple hours, Hanzo slipped off into the night. But not before McCree got his number. For purely business reasons. In case of emergencies. Of course.

Genji sighed in relief once the door closed behind his brother, sagging in his chair. “That went better than expected,” he said, Reaper grunted with agreement.

“It did. But Genji. Why didn’t ‘cha tell me?” McCree demanded, leaning over the table with an accusatory stare. Genji blinked up at him, bewildered. 

“What?”

“That your brother is. Smoking. Hot,” McCree said, slamming his fist on the table, making Genji jump, and drawing a chuckle from Reaper, and even a small huff that may have been a laugh from 76.

Genji screwed up his face, thinking about it. “He’s okay looking I guess. I like his new haircut…?”

“Okay lookin’!? Guy’s a solid 10, easy! Back me up here, Gabe.”

Reaper grunted and shrugged. “I guess he’s a six. Maybe a seven.”

McCree’s jaw nearly hit the floor. Even 76 looked mildly surprised as he joined them at the table, finally abandoning his vigil by the door.

“SIX?!”

“Mm…” Reaper nodded, “of course that’s factoring in his automatic three point deduction for being a Shimada…”

Genji scowled. “Thanks, Boss.”

“I did my time dealing with your angsty cyborg ass. I get to poke a little fun.”

“So, what’cher sayin’ is, he’s a nine or a ten if he weren’t related to Genji here,” McCree clarified.

“Yes.”

Genji just sighed with resignation, sliding low in his chair. “I suppose he was pretty rough looking for a bit when we were younger. Maybe he’s gotten better with age? You know. Like a fine wine. Good for him.”

“Mmhmm,” McCree purred. “I’d take a long drink of that…”

“McCree! No! Why!” Genji barked.

76 chuckled quietly. “You know what they say. It only gets better with age…” He smirked as he finally took a sip of the drink Reaper poured him hours ago. He blinked down at his glass, before taking another drink with a satisfied, if slightly surprised grunt. “Hey...This isn’t half bad…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'alls wanna hunt me down you can find me at lordcephalopod.tumblr.com
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed!
> 
> Y'all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Drug mention

Hanzo thumbed his phone awake after the long, strange meeting. He had a new message from an unknown number that simply read _“Howdy.”_ The cowboy, McCree. Apparently he didn’t feel the need to include his name in the message, believing that the greeting would be good enough to explain the number’s origin. And indeed he was correct. Hanzo smiled a little despite himself. The question of ‘what strange people has Genji chosen to associate with this time’ was a running theme in their youth. Though usually the answers involved large breasts, cute boys, plenty of liquor and occasionally some white powder. A cowboy and a wraith, however, were odd even for him.

He was glad he gave the strange crew a chance. They were much more reasonable than they looked. Living on the fringes and as outlaws tended to lead a person towards unique fashion choices. A situation Hanzo was certainly familiar with. 

It came as no small surprise to discover Reaper was not only real, but also somehow affiliated with his brother. He always assumed the bizarre battlefield ghost stories were the symptoms of adrenaline, fear, and overactive imaginations. He wondered how he was able to turn into mist like that, surely an invaluable skill in his line of work. Perhaps in the course of dealing with them he would find out. Though for the moment they weren’t past using code names. It took him a little longer into the meeting to realize he’d heard of 76 as well. Though not McCree…

Curiosity getting the better of him, Hanzo did a quick search on his phone for McCree. News stories on the cowboy weren’t hard to find, along with his outrageous bounty. Hanzo had to pause his scanning to stare at the number for a few moments. Impressive. It seemed no one in that crew was to be trifled with.

Hanzo made his way to the subway, to his stop, and all the way to his hotel, barely looking up from his phone. It was only when he was confronted with needing to unlock the door that he realized he’d been reading up on McCree the whole while. Sure, he’d occasionally made paranoid checks for a tail, but he’d hardly been vigilant. It was out of character. His cheeks grew warm as he slipped inside. 

He tried to convince himself he was merely checking up on what company his brother was keeping lately. It seemed important to know. And it wasn’t merely curiosity driven by the man’s good looks. His lack of vigilance was just because he was tired. Yes.

For an outlaw, McCree had such a warm smile. His deep laugh was also startlingly contagious. There didn’t tend to be much levity in Hanzo’s life. It was a pleasant diversion to find himself smiling so easily, even if it was at the alcoholic misadventures of a strange cowboy. His apparent buffoonery, however, was belied by his clear intelligence when it came time to plan. His suggestions were all good and insightful. He seemed to possess a rare and charming mix of characteristics.

Being around Genji was no easy thing… Reaper and Soldier: 76 were, by their nature, also a little unsettling. But it felt easy being around McCree. And he was easy around the other three. His mere presence did a great deal to neutralize what could have otherwise been an exceptionally tense meeting. 

Hanzo stepped into his hotel room, which wasn’t much more than a closet with a bed. Though it did sport a window and a mini fridge. The walls were white and completely barren of decoration, and the window afforded him a lovely view of the cement side of another high rise building. It seemed like a perfect place to go completely mad; needless to say Hanzo avoided staying inside for more than simply sleeping. However, it was downright luxurious compared to some places he’d stayed lately. He tossed his messenger bag in the corner and flopped on the bed, pulling up one last article on the strange cowboy. An incident about a weird anachronistic vigilante and a ramen shop in Hanamura. Hanzo read about the incident before, he just hadn’t put two and two together. He had heard of McCree after all.

He remembered how disappointed McCree looked when Hanzo said he hadn’t heard of the cowboy. And now realizing his error, he felt compelled to correct his former assertion. 

“I was mistaken, I have heard of you. Legend speaks of a cowboy having a shootout at a ramen stand. I don’t know how it slipped my mind.” Hanzo typed out on his phone, attaching the link to the article about the great noodle caper with a twisted smirk. Though his thumb hesitated over the send button. Did he really want to send this? He stared up at his phone, chewing on his lip anxiously. What if the cowboy was asleep? He could wake him. Then again anyone who hopped time zones the way he did probably had to silence their phone whenever they slept anyway. Or maybe he’d sound sad and weird instead of friendly. That was a possibility he didn’t have a good counter argument for. 

Hanzo shifted position on the bed, still contemplating whether or not to send the message, when his finger slipped and made the decision for him. He froze with something akin to terror when he saw the message go through. _That was a mistake! I hadn’t decided yet!_ He held his breath. Well. At least that made his decision easier...

The response came almost immediately. Clearly McCree was still awake.

_“One of my finest hours. But at what cost? So many noodles lost to the ground, never to be eaten… It’s hard to think about. But those villains met with justice that day.”_

Hanzo emitted a choked off snort laugh, that would have been quite embarrassing in public, and indeed was still a little embarrassing alone. 

_“I can only imagine the carnage. But your valor is appreciated. I was quite fond of that particular establishment.”_

_“You don’t say? Maybe you can help me stage my triumphant return some time.”_

Hanzo smiled a little sadly. He hadn’t eaten at that shop in years. Once the remaining Shimadas caught on to his yearly visits, sneaking a quiet meal had become exponentially more difficult. And awareness that he was alive put anyone he made contact with at risk. _“Sadly I do not believe my return to Hanamura would be advisable at this time.”_

_“That’s a real shame. At least Osaka’s got some good ramen joints. Found at least one that about blew my mind already. Maybe we could visit it instead. You never know, it might need savin too.”_

Hanzo was too amused by the fact that McCree actually typed out his accent to realize he’d essentially been asked out on a date. Replying with, _“Sounds like an excellent plan”_ just felt like furtherance of the banter, until the reality that he’d arranged some sort of ramen date with McCree hit him in the face like a brick.

_How did that happen?!_

McCree proposed a time and a place to coincide with when they were supposed to share information from their investigations. Hanzo of course accepted, how could he refuse? The timing made Hanzo wonder if this really was some date, or just the cowboy being friendly, until he realized McCree was scheduled to be at the opposite end of Japan in the meantime. Any dates would have to wait, the earliest possible time they could meet again would be when they were sharing information in person again.

_“It’s a damn good thing I got sent away from there. If I’d been stayin put round that spot I would’ve gotten fat as a house eatin there all the time.”_

Hanzo chuckled, trying to picture McCree becoming ‘fat as a house’. It was difficult to imagine, but he could picture the cowboy with a few extra pounds on his frame and still looking good. His sculpted ass traded out for a plump bubble butt, and his firm middle traded out for something just a little softer and huggable… Hanzo shook his head vigorously to clear the image. _“I’m sure you would have been fine.”_ he wrote back.

_“Speakin of gettin fat as a house. I don’t suppose you know of any gelato places in Osaka? I’ve been havin a mighty cravin.”_

Hanzo shook his head with a smile. _“It’s a large city. I’m sure there’s something. Fought off any gelato bandits before?”_

_“Nah, I AM a gelato bandit.”_

_“I will be sure to keep an eye out for you then. Though I have no desire to be complicit in knocking over a gelato stand. I would be happy to simply pay.”_

_“Then I’ll cover the noodles, assumin it’s not on the house after we heroically save them from whatever villains we encounter.”_

_“Excellent plan. Though I have to wonder why you’re craving ice cream in the middle of winter.”_

_“Don’t let the naysayers fool you. Gelato’s a year round treat.”_

_“I will take your word on that,”_ Hanzo wrote back before beginning to shuck off his clothes. It was time for bed, he had plenty to do in the morning.

Hanzo shivered as he climbed under the covers. The room came equipped with a combination air conditioner heater unit...unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, that particular model had proved to be an exceptional hiding place for the Storm Bow, with some mild modifications that rendered the unit temporarily inoperable. Usually the radiant heat from the several floors below him were enough to keep the room comfortable, but it was just a little on the brisk side tonight.

_You could always invite that cowboy over, could warm things up in here real quick…_

Hanzo silently scolded himself for the errant thought. Though he had to admit it had been a very...very long time since he shared a bed with anyone, or so much as entertained the thought. After Genji, he really felt like he deserved nothing. Finding comfort in the arms of another person was a luxury he was not entitled to. Even after receiving Genji’s unexpected, and still somehow unaccepted forgiveness. He lived a solitary life. He spent so much time living on the outskirts, quietly seeking redemption, that the idea that he could share any of his life with another person was virtually alien to him. Really, it was surprising it took this long into what was now undeniably flirting for the guilt to start seeping in. Another of the cowboy’s magic tricks, perhaps.

_“Well, I look forward to all of it. I should probably sign off for now. Genji’s been tryin to plan this whole time and is givin me stink eye.”_

Hanzo smiled, imagining Genji’s glare. He’d been on the receiving end of it more times than he could count. His levity melted away slightly as he remembered that he probably saw Genji’s glare directed at him more than anything else. Glares as Hanzo lectured him on responsibility, dragged his strung out ass away from parties, and generally tried in vain to straighten him out. It pained him to think he’d now be directing his ire at McCree. Usually he was all smiles and mirth around his friends. Genji wasn’t the same man after what Hanzo did to him.

He tried valiantly to shake off the guilt and grief before it consumed him. _“I too look forward to it. And I wish you both the best of luck.”_

Hazo set his phone on the windowsill and buried his face in his pillow, trying to fight off the dark cloud that threatened to consume him. He should be happy, he just successfully set up a date with a handsome cowboy. And he was helping Genji in an important mission. 

_You must forgive yourself._

Genji’s words whispered through his mind. His brother was certainly wiser now than he had been, no longer the troublesome fool he was in their youths. Hanzo killed that Genji…

He pulled the blankets tightly around himself, curling up in a ball, trying to blank the thoughts from his mind. Forgiving himself was easier said than done.

* * *

“Are you done being distracted now?” Genji asked impatiently as McCree tucked his phone away in his pocket. 

“Yeah, yeah, simmer down. Wasn’t chattin’ that long.”

“No, it’s not like we’re on our way to go knock over a bunch of Yakuza. Not like we have any important planning to worry about.” Genji sighed, leaning back in his seat. 

They’d boarded a high speed train a few minutes earlier. Their car was miraculously, and pleasantly devoid of anyone else. They already had enough politely, or not so politely concealed looks tossed their way. McCree was used to drawing attention wherever he went with his fashion choices, Genji, however, didn’t have much of a choice. Even as he was right now, dressed in jeans, a sporty parka, scarf, and cap, it was still obvious there was something different about him. People with prosthesis were a dime a dozen. People like Genji however, truly straddling the line between omnic and human? Not so much. At least Genji didn’t seem as bothered by it as he once was. Whatever that omnic monk of his was selling seemed to be working for him at least.

As relieved as McCree was they were alone, it was still far from a comfortable ride. The stiff chairs left a bit to be desired, but he’d been on worse trains. At least this time he was inside.

“I know. But it ain’t like we’re doin’ it tonight! We got time!”

“Who were you talking with, anyway?” Genji asked.

“Just flirtin’ with your brother. Settin’ up a date,” McCree said casually, lacing his fingers over his stomach as he stretched his legs into the aisle. Genji stared at him from the opposite seat, open mouthed.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not!” 

“I know you think he’s good looking...but didn’t you once refer to my brother as a ‘fratricidal motherfuck who needed his ass beat’?”

“I mean. Probably. But that was a long time ago! ‘N I hadn’t met the guy. The fella that walked into that bar didn’t seem much like the stories you used to tell…” McCree shrugged. “‘M curious.” 

“He is...different. He’s changed. We’ve both changed a lot,” Genji said, his gaze drifting to the window, watching the city lights streak by. “The haircut and bridge piercing are certainly new. Very retro. It suits him. I hope it’s a sign he’s letting himself live life again...” Genji trailed off. His gaze snapped back to McCree as the reality of the situation settled in. “Wait. Were you actually serious about the date thing? Did you just text him and ask for a date, and he accepted?” Genji demanded, his voice very nearly cracking from the sheer levels of disbelief.

McCree chuckled warmly. “That’s not exactly how it went down. He contacted me first-” McCree held up a hand to silence whatever baffled utterance Genji was about to emit, resulting in just a distressed, choked whine. “We were chattin’ ‘bout that ramen stand in Hanamura I got, uh, ‘involved’ with. Y’know how it goes. One thing led to another…So we’re meetin’ up for noodles when we get back”

“So you’re actually going on a dinner date. With Hanzo.” Genji let the idea roll around in his head for a few moments before he lunged forward, grabbing the front of McCree’s shirt. “I have so many things I want you to ask him for me!”

McCree let out a startled oof as Genji dragged him forward. “Hold on now. I ain’t usin’ my date to go interrogatin’ your brother for you…”

“No, you don’t understand. Every time I try to talk to him I swear it’s like. He becomes either all defiant or angry, or alternatively just...turns into like a guilt elemental. It’s useless. If you can have an actual. Human conversation…”

McCree grabbed Genji’s hands and gently removed them from his shirt, pushing Genji back in his seat with a chuckle. “I’ll have my ‘actual human date’ ‘n we’ll talk about whatever we please. Tell you what, I’ll report back with how it goes. Sound good?”

Genji let out a sigh, folding his arms and slouching down into his chair. “I suppose.” He glanced back up at McCree, giving him a critical once over. “I suppose it makes some sense, I guess you’re his type.”

McCree’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Oh? What’s Hanzo’s type?”

Genji shrugged. “Whenever my brother brought a boy around I was never sure if the person was a date or a sparring partner. Who am I kidding, it was probably both half the time.” He paused. “Though I’m a little surprised Hanzo is your type.”

“What can I say? I’m curious. And he’s mighty fine,” McCree said with a wink. Genji groaned.

“So you’ve mentioned.” He ran his hand over his face, giving McCree yet another critical stare. “Did you seriously not bring any normal people clothes?”

“Whaddya mean? These are normal clothes.” McCree huffed. He wasn’t even wearing his chest plate. That would just be too conspicuous. Genji even talked him into leaving his chaps in his bag for this trip. His green serepe also served as a somewhat less conspicuous garment than his red one. But it was cold out, it’s not like he was going to leave that packed away.

“You _know_ what I mean...Not all…” Genji waved his hand at McCree. “All-!” He sighed, receiving nothing but a stonewall. “Fine. You know what. I know an amazing spot in Tokyo that can hook you up with something stylish that will fit. We’ll hit it on the way back. It’ll only be a couple hour detour max.”

“What’s wrong with the way I dress?” McCree pouted, thoroughly just trying to yank Genji’s chain at this point. 

“I’ll not have my brother going on a date in public with a weird, homeless looking wannabe cowboy.”

“Hey! _Wannabe?_ ”

“Have you _ever_ even ridden a horse?”

McCree huffed. “Like. Twice?

Genji blinked at him. “Really? I was assuming the answer to that was going to be no.”

“Actually I think one was a mule.”

“You know what? Forget I asked,” Genji said with a laugh, shaking his head. “Okay _cowboy._ But I’m still dragging you shopping. We’ll make sure it’s something still. Uh. In keeping with your. Unique style?”

McCree chuckled, looking down at his threadbare shirt and ragged jeans. They were certainly getting a little worn, and not in a cute designer way. It wouldn’t hurt to buy a couple new garments. “Deal.”


	3. Chapter 3

Hanzo shivered, carefully rearranging his scarf to block out any drafts, nuzzling his face down inside the warmish folds. The city rarely got _that_ cold, but it was apparently trying to make an exception tonight. It didn’t help that it had been raining all evening. Though calling it rain was perhaps being generous. It was more like a hideous, icy, all encompassing mist that seemed determined to soak everyone to the bone. 

He’d heard hopeful, and fearful whispers of snow all evening, despite the forecast not calling for it. But give the weather, Hanzo wouldn’t be surprised. And to think that lunatic cowboy wanted gelato...At least the all night dessert joint Hanzo found also served piping hot coffee. And the cold served as an excellent distraction from his nerves.

“Sorry I’m late. Hope you weren’t waitin’ long,” 

“Not at all,” Hanzo replied, trying to force a smile through his frigid discomfort. It was true, he’d only just arrived. But the walk was enough to render him frozen. He gave McCree a surprised once over. His outfit was different. Instead of some strange cowboy vagrant he now actually looked somewhat stylish, though still with a southwestern flair. The nice (exceptionally well...fitted) jeans even managed to class up his boots. His hat was missing, and his shaggy hair was stylishly tousled, and certainly not inviting Hanzo to comb his fingers through it. Above all Hanzo had to admire, and envy, his very warm, very waterproof looking shearling coat. 

“Your outfit. It has changed.” Hanzo blinked. He then immediately realized the implication of that statement was he expected McCree to never change clothes, which really wouldn’t be far from the truth. He looked pretty rough at the bar. But that was probably not very flattering. “I mean...the style…”

McCree chuckled, giving him a lazy smile. “Yeah. You like it?”

Hanzo gave McCree another once over, and a curt nod. “Yes. Though I did not mind the other.” Hanzo’s mind spun a little. Why was this conversation so difficult? _Because you haven’t been on a date in years. Quite possibly over a decade._ He tried to ignore the annoying, if truthful voice. He was just going on a simple dinner date with a colleague. It was nothing to get worked up about. Facing down dozens of gangsters armed with guns with only a bow and his wits didn’t make him nervous. So this shouldn’t either. _But see, back then you felt like you had nothing to lose, including your life. Now you risk looking like an ass in front of a handsome fellow._

Hanzo continued to ignore the annoying, and still painfully truthful voice.

“Well, thank you kindly for that. You look like yer freezin’. Seems we oughta go inside.”

Hanzo gave a sharp nod in agreement, making a conscious effort not to hunker back down into his scarf. Fortunately he was hit with a wall of warmth when they stepped through the door.

The shop was filled to the brim with people, probably a good sign considering it was the middle of the week and well past usual dinner hours. Hanzo had to change the time at the last minute to accommodate meeting with a contact. Fortunately McCree didn’t seem to mind at all, though Hanzo’s stomach minded quite a bit.

Between the hot broth and damp patrons, the shop’s windows were fogged. Happy, chatting, mostly college aged people sat enjoying their meals crammed slightly too many to a table, and filling the bar. Hanzo and McCree had to wait a fair while for their food, though they took the opportunity to lay some ground rules for their date. No shop talk, and no talk about the mission. Besides, they’d literally just met about it. Hanzo was already plenty impressed at how efficiently McCree and his brother routed a hearty gang of yakuza, got some good intel, and walked away without so much as a scratch.

Unfortunately, thanks to the volume inside the shop, not much conversing happened in general. Mostly small talk, which they practically had to yell at each other. A gaggle of flush faced patrons rolled in as soon as they got their food, raising the overall decibels even higher. It seemed the shop was a popular spot for the slightly (or more than slightly) inebriated crowd. Though what this many coeds were doing shitfaced in the middle of the week was anyone’s guess.

At least the ramen was good. But not as good as Hanzo’s favorite spot in Hanamura.

The energy of the young people, while infectious, was also mildly grating. They were both more than ready to leave by the time they finished their noodles. At first an itching nag of anxiety in Hanzo’s mind told him McCree wanted to flee the date, not simply the building, but it was dismissed as soon as they stepped outside.

“So. You mentioned you found some some place that’s got gelato ‘round here?” The cowboy asked with a cheeky grin, hooking his thumbs in his belt. 

“I did, it’s only a few blocks down. They serve an assortment of desserts and coffee. Though I can’t imagine why you would want anything frozen in this weather,” Hanzo said, unable to fend off the smile creeping onto his lips, partly brought about by relief. He chided himself silently. He was being silly, this date was nothing to concern himself with.

“Could stick my ass in Siberia ‘n I’d still want gelato. Lead the way.”

They kept the conversation light as they walked, mostly focusing on travel. Hanzo inquired whether McCree had actually ever been to Siberia (he had) and McCree asked about Hanzo’s favorite spot (his heart still belonged to Japan, but he left out how badly he missed Hanamura.) They discussed their mutual dislike of cold, but fondness for snow, and the best places they’d ever eaten around the world.

A nondescript door led them to a delicious smelling, charming little shop which almost looked like it had been decorated by a wide assortment of grandmothers, possibly one from every nationality of dessert served in the establishment. From the doilies, to the antique cast iron cash register, to a shelf of curios including a finely crafted porcelain doll and a happy speckled houseplant. While the effect should have been nauseatingly sweet, it was restrained enough to feel eclectic but homey, and cute enough to soften even the iciest of hearts. Hanzo found it quite quaint.

Perhaps most importantly, the place was nearly empty.

The lone waitress cheerfully took their orders, a scoop of strawberry gelato for McCree, and a black coffee for Hanzo. The two barely had time to peel off their excessive layers before their orders appeared. 

Hanzo thanked the waitress, eagerly wrapping his cold fingers around the coffee mug. He raised it to his lips, inhaling the rich aroma. It had been a long while since he allowed himself to simply sit and enjoy a nice cup of coffee. Not something out of a vending machine or reconstituted powder. Not drinking it while hunkered down in a subway car or looking over his shoulder. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to have allies. Sure, someone recognizing him remained a concern, but now he had backup. 

The waitress handed McCree a dainty tulip shaped cup with his bright pink gelato. “Ah! _Arigatou_ ,” he said in one of the roughest accents Hanzo had ever heard. It must have been too loud for him to overhear at the ramen shop. Hanzo worked to bite back a smile, especially when McCree picked up the ridiculous, tiny gelato spoon, which looked absurd in his large, strong hand. The entire picture was…

Adorable.

“What’er you grinnin’ at?” McCree asked, though not without a smirk of his own. Hanzo tried to hide behind the coffee mug, but it was already too late.

“I uh. Am curious how much Japanese you know,”

“Eh, Genji taught me enough to get by. Understand more than I can speak. Can’t read a lick. Genji says my accent’s awful though.”

Hanzo nearly snorted his coffee. But managed to maintain his composure. “Ah, your accent. It matches your American accent. It is fitting.”

“Eh, well. ‘Least my Spanish’s good.”

“It sounds like you and my brother were. Quite close,” Hanzo said tentatively, focusing on his coffee.

“Yeah. Group of us back in Blackwatch were thick as thieves. Kinda like a weird family.” McCree said with a hint of nostalgia in his voice. He sucked on the tiny gelato spoon for a second, looking distant. “Butcha know what they say. All good things…”

Hanzo nodded, gazing down at the table. It was good to know Genji had been able to find a place he fit in, at least for a while. “If you two were so close I’m surprised…” he trailed off, not sure exactly he was trying to say.

McCree smirked, pointing at him with the ridiculous spoon. “Surprised I didn’t just deck ya on sight?” 

Hanzo huffed out a laugh, smiling despite himself, dragging his eyes off the table to meet McCree’s warm gaze. “Essentially, yes.”

He shrugged. “Back then? I probably woulda. But hey. Times change. I’ve changed. Y’don’t seem much like the guy Genji described back then. ‘Sides. He’s forgiven ya, it ain’t my place questionin’ that.”

“There is a marked difference between foregoing assault and going on a date…”

“What can I say? ‘M curious.”

“Well. I’m glad my brother has found such caring friends. And thank you for not…’decking’ me.”

McCree grinned at him. “Any time.” He scraped dainty spoonfuls of desert as Hanzo sipped his coffee, trying not to get sucked too far into his own world of regret and self loathing. That would be rude to his date, who’d proved to be nothing but charming so far. It was Hanzo’s fault they even got on the topic of Genji anyway. 

“You know where else I got a bit of an ear for Japanese?” McCree said suddenly, thankfully jarring Hanzo out of his head. He blinked up at McCree. McCree leaned over the table, conspiratorially, Hanzo leaned forward in response, like McCree was about to share some deep and terrible secret. “From watchin’ old, samurai movies.”

Hanzo had to laugh, leaning back. “And here I thought you would be a fan of old westerns.”

“Don’t get me wrong! I love westerns too. Genres kinda got some...overlap when you get down to it.”

Hanzo nodded with a solemn hum. “It’s true…”

“Heh! Here I thought you’d fight me on that!”

“Anyone who’s taken more than a cursory look at both genres can see many similar themes and issues arising within the films. Especially in the later western revival films. Though there are still some undeniable stark differences...there remain many similarities in themes and style,” Hanzo said casually before taking a sip of his coffee. McCree, for his part, stared in dumbfounded silence, his mouth hanging open. Hanzo blinked, not entirely sure why the cowboy looked so surprised. “I have a fondness for film as an art…?” He trailed off as McCree continued to stare. “ _What?_ ”

“I just. Can’t believe. That Hanzo-Fuckin’-Shimada. Is a movie nerd.” McCree hissed, leaning over the table, so his voice wouldn’t carry. Hanzo shrugged.

“Everyone needs a hobby.”

“Here I thought your stuff with the bow’n everythin’ would count.”

“That is not a hobby.”

McCree let out a hearty chuckle, leaning back. “Fair.”

“No matter what country you’re in you can always find films. Even if you don’t speak the language and there are no subtitles, you can still pick up on what’s happening,” Hanzo said, McCree nodded in agreement.

“I feel ya. Y’know? No one tells you how much down time there is bein’ on the run. ‘S like...sometimes ya gotta lay low and that means holden’ up in some rat hole hotel ‘til yer bus leaves which aint’ for another three hours…And you ain’t got nothin’ better to do than watch the TV or a movie or read a book or sit around thinkin’ about how isolated ‘n lonely it is bein’ in the ass end of nowhere with nobody who don’t want you dead...” McCree trailed off, what started out as a somewhat neutral sounding observation growing solemn as he talked. 

Hanzo nodded. “I am. Acutely familiar with that situation. Yes.”

The two sat in silence for a while before McCree cleared his throat. “So. What’s your favorite movie?”

Hanzo chuckled lightly, happy to brush away the thought of the crushing loneliness he could practically feel like a weight on his shoulders. In the back of his mind he was waiting for this mission to be over, waiting to separate from his brother, his weird friends, and this bizarre cowboy. His miserable return to solidarity, where he deserved to remain. “Am I supposed to only pick one?”

They sat talking about their favorite movies, not simply samurai and westerns, but everything. Their favorite scenes, the worst movies they’d seen. Beautiful visuals, entertaining plots, terrible jokes, fascinating characters. The topics were endless, and enjoyable, so much so that Hanzo didn’t even realize that McCree seemed to be prompting him to do the bulk of the talking. Patrons came and went as the two sat. Eventually McCree also ordered a coffee, and Hanzo refilled his.

The conversation was wholly pleasant, and Hanzo completely lost track of time. Until he made a horrifying discovery.

“What do you mean you’ve never seen ‘The Searchers’? It’s...it’s an _iconic_ western! I thought you were supposed to be...some sort of cowboy!” Hanzo demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at McCree’s face, possibly amped up after his third cup of coffee. McCree laughed.

“I dunno what to tell you! I just haven’t! Haven’t seen a lotta the real old-old stuff.”

“We must fix this-” Hanzo snapped, before cutting himself off hearing screams from outside. McCree perked up at the sound too, though their concerns were somewhat assuaged when the screams were interjected with laughter, and more yelling.

“The hell’s goin’ on out there?”

“We could find out. On our way to making you watch the movie…”

“Alright! Twist my arm why dontcha?” McCree said with a grin that did not make it look like much arm twisting was required. “The hotel Genji ‘n I’s stayin’ at ain’t far. Gotta screen we could watch it there?”

“Acceptable.” 

Hanzo insisted on picking up the bill (McCree managed to pay for their ramen before Hanzo even had a chance to object), and they headed out the door. Though not before the waitress gave Hanzo a knowing look and a sly smirk. He stubbornly tried to ignore her and not blush.

A confounding mixture of screams and laughter continued to occasionally ring through the night air. Though the source of the cries immediately became apparent as Hanzo stepped out of the shop, and both feet slid straight out from under him. McCree caught him from behind before he could fall, standing in the safe threshold of the building, trapping Hanzo in an awkward bearhug from behind.

“Woah there! Gotcha.” 

Hanzo’s heart felt lodged in his throat, his pulse raced and he felt his face grow hot. A jittery, almost giddy feeling washed over him as he felt himself enfolded in McCree’s arms, even if one of said arms was cold and metal, the rest of the man was warm, firm, and welcoming. _Too much caffeine._ Hanzo told himself, ignoring the fact that an insane part of his mind wanted to just stay leaning against McCree, while another part of him wanted to regain his footing and his dignity as fast as humanly possible. 

“Good reflexes…thank you,” Hanzo said, hoping his voice didn’t sound too strained as he tried to get his feet back under him. Usually Hanzo’s prosthetics provided excellent traction on any surface...but they weren’t generally great on ice. It seemed the temperature had dropped while they were in the cafe, leaving the hideous mist from earlier frozen in a glossy sheet of ice across every surface. Though the hover cars didn’t seem to be having troubles, the same could not be said for the pedestrians.

A few agonizing moments later, Hanzo finally found his footing. He hoped his face wasn’t too red as he stepped away from McCree and turned, just in time to see the cowboy also nearly slip and fall with a strangled expletive.

Across the street a pair of young women essentially ice skated by in their shoes, giggling the whole way. This was absurd. Hanzo reached out a hand to try and stabilize McCree, as the cowboy struggled to get his footing, bracing himself against the wall.

“Cowboy boots weren’t meant for ice! Shit!” McCree exclaimed as he nearly fell, making it Hanzo’s turn to catch him, though this involved more grabbing his elbow and nearly shoving him back into the building than bear hugging, but he’d take it. At least they both got to look like idiots.

“How far away did you say the hotel was again?” Hanzo asked with a laugh, still clinging greedily onto McCree’s arm.

“Too far.”

The two began their treacherous walk arm in arm, hoping four legs might be better than two. Not that Hanzo would ever try to look for an excuse to hold himself close to his date. That was for foolish people who relied on pretence for closeness. Not him. Never. It’s not like his pride ever kept him from making moves in the past for fear of revealing his soft, squishy interior. Not like he’d ever gotten into a situation where he kicked himself for missing opportunities because of a stubborn refusal to make a move. But at least the exceptionally slippery journey provided ample distraction from any of these memories of things that did not happen. 

The entire journey was delightful in its own, mildly terrifying way. Hanzo couldn’t remember the last time he laughed so much.

Some patches of sidewalk were better than others. A few of the businesses still open at this hour caught wise to what was happening outside their doors even began sprinkling salt on the sidewalk to help deal with the situation. 

“Goddamn. I’ve faced down murder-bots less threatenin’ than that ice,” McCree said with a laugh as they finally reached the hotel. It was a much nicer building than where Hanzo was staying. Then again Hanzo half picked his current location because the staff couldn’t be bothered to do anything as basic as check IDs of residents or investigate why a particular room’s heater wasn’t working. 

They remained hooked arm in arm as they strolled through the lobby, despite finally being free from the threat of ice. Hanzo was more than happy to cling greedily to the cowboy’s arm. He didn’t fully realize how much he missed real, human contact until he had someone to hang onto. And this human had the added benefit of being both handsome and charming...

As they approached the elevator up, it finally occurred to Hanzo that he was in fact following his date back to his hotel room, which usually had implications much less innocent than ‘watching a movie.’ Though the thought of tearing the cowboy’s clothes off and throwing him in bed was appealing...he somehow suspected it wouldn’t be the wisest choice at the moment.

“We’ll have to be quiet. Me ‘n Genji got like separate rooms? But the walls ain’t nothin,” McCree said, apparently having a similar thought process.

 

Well. That negated the clothes tearing off option. Just as well. 

Their room was akin to a small apartment, complete with bedrooms, a small kitchen area, and most importantly, a lovely kotatsu ringed with a custom fit sofa. McCree retrieved his laptop and plopped it down on the table, prompting Hanzo to find the movie. 

Despite the excitement of their walk, the icy chill outside had penetrated into Hanzo’s bones, making him eager to bundle up under the table’s comforter. McCree disappeared for a moment into his room, and emerged with a blanket. He draped it over Hanzo’s shoulders before sliding in place next to him. 

“If I had a house, you bet your ass I’d be gettin’ onea these things. Whoever invented ‘ems a genius,” McCree said, knocking his knuckle on the kotatsu as the movie flickered onto the screen. Hanzo chuckled.

“Genji and I used to get in trouble for sleeping under when we were boys. Our mother thought it was unsophisticated.”

“I’m all for unsophisticated,” McCree said with a grin. He started adjusting the blanket he’d draped on Hanzo, appropriating some of it for himself, before he held an arm out around Hanzo’s shoulders, hesitantly, being careful not to touch yet. Hanzo, obligingly leaned against McCree’s side in response. McCree sighed in faint satisfaction as he wrapped his arm around Hanzo’s shoulders, pulling them snugly together. Hanzo’s heart skipped around in his chest a little.

This was all just so. Amazingly. _Nice_.

The two watched the movie flicker by more or less in silence, happy and contented to be curled up and warm next to each other.

Eventually McCree sighed as the camera panned over another glorious landscape shot. “Who coulda thought watchin’ a hundred year old movie’d make me me homesick…” 

“I always meant to see the American Southwest. It seems desolate...but beautiful.”

“Mm, it’s got its charms. I outghta show you the sights some time,” McCree said, stifling a yawn.

Hanzo smiled. “That sounds like an offer.”

“It is.”

“Hm. I will take it under advisement.”

* * *

Genji cracked an eye open, emitting an annoyed groan. He could hear sounds drifting through his bedroom door. Wisps of music and dialogue, not too loud, but just enough to be annoying. Mostly because it was four in the morning. What the _hell_ was McCree doing watching a movie at this hour?

He slid open his bedroom door, grumbling. Honestly. It’s not like they had a mission to do or anything. He was lucky Jack and Gabe had no interest in sharing a hotel room with them, otherwise they’d probably be up his ass about this too. He could see the shape of McCree’s head outlined against the laptop. He squinted through the glare as his eyes adjusted to the light. Something didn’t look quite right. 

He shuffled around to get a better look, blinking with surprise. McCree reclined under the kotatsu, the table’s blanket pulled up over his lap, and a second blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and Hanzo’s, folding the two into a nice, warm, cocoon together. Hanzo was tucked up against McCree’s side, head resting on his shoulder, his hair spilling over his face. Both were sound asleep, as the movie they seemed to have started watching continued flickering by. A very old western from the looks of it. 

Genji silently retreated back to his room. Whatever conclusion Genji expected to come from McCree’s half baked date with his brother, this was not it. Dating had never really been Hanzo’s style, at least not this kind of...cute movie cuddling dating. 

It was nice to see his brother looking, vaguely happy? He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him quite so disarmed, asleep or not. McCree being happy was good too, but Genji still wasn’t quite sure what to think of the whole thing, he assumed they’d have dinner, become annoyed with one another, and go their separate ways. The thought that the date would be anything other than just vaguely polite and lackluster never really crossed his mind. What if McCree and Hanzo really started dating? If McCree hurt his brother, he’d have to kill him. Then again Jesse had become family to him over the years, so if Hanzo hurt him, killing would again be in order. And Genji’s life already featured way too much fratricide as it was. 

He rolled over and tried to sleep. He would worry about it in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

As surprised as McCree was for the date to end cuddled up under a kotatsu with Hanzo, he was not surprised when Hanzo beat a hasty retreat the moment they woke up. He gave some feeble excuse about having a meeting before he skittered away, turning down all offers of coffee and tea. A slight veil of disappointment settled over McCree when Hanzo didn’t want to stick around for breakfast, but seeing the twitchy glances he shot Genji’s direction, he knew not to take it personally. 

Either way, it was most assuredly coffee time. McCree kicked himself a little for staying up so late as he started boiling some water, and silently cursed the hotel for its lack of coffee maker. But at least it had an electric kettle. 

He couldn’t be upset how the morning went, really. The date had most assuredly been worth it. It was one of the most fun, most pleasant, quiet nights out he’d had in ages. 

Genji thumped his makeup bag down on the squat table, and grabbed McCree’s laptop. He poked a few buttons until he’d activated the camera and turned the device into his very own high tech mirror. He pulled out his eyeliner pen and casually started drawing around his lashes.

“So. It seems the date went well?” Genji asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Yeah! Your brother’s uh. He’s an interestin’ guy…”

“Interesting?” Genji asked, continuing to try to sound impassive and failing. 

“Yeah. Interestin’. Takes some doin’ to get him talkin’ though. Pretty nice too. Seems like he’s changed quite a bit from what you’d told me about him.”

“How did you get him talking? What did you talk about? Tell me _everything._ ” Genji finally demanded, pointing his eyeliner at McCree, all feeble attempts to look uncaring abandoned. 

“Eh, talked about travel, he’s done a lotta that. And movies. Guy’s a huge movie buff…” McCree smiled as Genji’s eyes widened. He would forgo telling the poor guy that every hint of a mention of Genji made Hanzo look like he was ready to crawl under a rock. 

“Movies? My brother likes something as normal as movies?”

“Yeah, makin’ me watch that thing was his idea,” McCree said, jerking his thumb at the laptop. Genji’s mouth fell open.

“He...it was his idea to make you watch a western?”

“Yep,” McCree shrugged as he measured out his coffee grounds and poured the hot water into his french press. He also poured Genji a nice steaming mug and plopped a tea bag inside. He delivered it to the dumbfounded man who grasped it with his left hand, eyeliner pen still clutched in his right. 

“My brother. Watches. Westerns…?”

“Yeah, and all sortsa other movies by the sounds of it.” 

“What else! What else did you find out?”

McCree laughed and shrugged. “I dunno. Likes snow. Likes his coffee black. Gets real intense when he drinks too much though.”

“Hanzo is always ‘real intense’...”

“Fair. But this is like. His usual intense? Only faster.”

“That sounds terrifying.”

“A bit? But also kinda cute?”

Genji snorted, finally setting his tea down on the table and resuming perfectly lining his eyes. “I have a hard time imagining anything my brother does as ‘cute’.”

McCree frowned, fiddling with the press. “You okay with this? I mean...didn’t ask before ‘cause I really didn’t think anything’d come of it. But you’re like family. I wouldn’t wanna do anything you’d be uncomfortable with.”

“So, it is serious then?”

“I dunno ‘serious’ but...I’d like t’see him again. Yaknow. In a non professional capacity.”

Genji set down his eyeliner, inspecting his work in the computer screen. It was hard to tell how much of his pensive expression was about how perfectly sculpted his cat eye turned out or in response to McCree’s question. 

“It would probably be good for him…” Genji said as he fished around in his makeup bag for some concealer. He’d been fading some of his worse scars when they had to go out and attempt to blend in public. 

“My question aint’ ‘bout him it’s ‘bout you. I ain’t about to wave off the history you two got, even if he’s changed.”

Genji sighed. “I am fine. But thank you for your concern.”

“You sure?”

Genji put down his makeup and turned to face McCree, looking solemn. “McCree. You have my express permission to go out and do whatever with my brother. Just wear a rubber.” He turned back to his work, a smile twisting his lips as McCree laughed. “And maybe get a reasonable amount of sleep before missions?”

“Where’d be the fun in that?” McCree asked with a chuckle, pouring himself a mug of his freshly brewed coffee. 

“I mean you two must have got in at what? Two, three in the morning? We have things to d-” Genji stopped mid sentence, nearly dropping his makeup pad. “Oh… _No..._ ”

“Wha-”

“McCree!” Genji leapt to his feet, flinging the makeup pad instead. The cowboy took a step back, bumping into the counter and nearly spilling his coffee.

“What!”

“This is terrible! How can this be happening!”

“Genji! Calm down, you’re freakin’ me out…”

“First I yelled at you at the bar, then I made you change outfits for your date? Then I tell you not to stay out- and Hanzo has you out all night- We’ve switched roles! _I’m becoming the no fun brother._ I’m turning into Hanzo!”

McCree chuckled. “Y’aint turnin’ into Hanzo…”

“‘Stop being an idiot Genji, you’re not going out in public wearing that Genji, we have a meeting in the morning Genji, don’t stay out so late, Genji!’” Genji said in his best Hanzo impersonation, which was actually pretty spot on. McCree suspected he’d had practice over the years. 

“So? You’ve matured! We all have.”

“No, no! This is terrible, you don’t understand! I can’t be the no fun one!” Genji cried, striding over to McCree and shaking his shoulders. The cowboy barely set his coffee down in time to keep from spilling it everywhere at the rattling. He grabbed Genji’s wrists, peeling the man off with a laugh. 

“Just because Hanzo likes movies doesn’t make you the no fun one…”

“It’s not just that! Now Hanzo’s the one with the half shaved head and bridge piercing! I haven’t even dyed my hair in years! It’s- it’s normal hair colored! I don’t have any piercings!”

“Genji. You’re a cyborg. I think you’ve gotta one up on Hanzo on the body mods-”

“That’s not the same!”

“You GLOW. Ya coulda been like ‘hey, Doc, try’n make me look like a normal inconspicuous cyborg dude’, but nah. Y’got all that,” McCree waved his hand at Genji’s person. “Green ‘n stuff.”

Genji sighed and walked back to the kotatsu, before dramatically crumpling to the floor. He reluctantly snaked a hand out to grab his tea, clutching it close to his chest instead of drinking it. “I should at least dye my hair again…” 

“Genji. Y’aint turnin’ into Hanzo…” McCree said, as Genji stared off, clearly not paying attention.

“Mmhm. You know what I’m going to do? Party. I’m going to throw a party.” He popped back to his feet. “I’ll invite our friends, and have drinks, and it will be _fun_.” 

“That don’t sound like a half bad idea. I think the lot’a us could use with a little unwindin’”

“Maybe I’ll find a place with a hot tub-”

“Now, speakin’ of bein’ no fun? Maybe the party plannin’ oughta happen after we take care’a catchin’ our train…” McCree said, tapping his wrist, though he lacked a watch. Genji checked the time and emitted a stressed, startled noise. He lifted his tea and immediately started chugging it. 

After a few gulps he jerked the mug away from his lips, grimacing, holding the drink out at arm's length, as if that would somehow undo what he already did. “HOT!”

“I really don’t think you gotta worry about bein’ the uptight brother…” McCree laughed as Genji reeled in pain. Some things never change.

* * *

“You should come!”

“No, thank you, Genji, I think we’re a little bit old to be partying,” Soldier 76 said as gently as possible.

“What he means is your party sounds lame and we don’t want to go,” Reaper added.

“Thanks, Dear.” Soldier sighed as he holstered his gun. The group had just completed a mission, and were gathered at the extraction point. Genji started party planning the second people were within earshot.

“Is now really the time for this?” Hanzo snapped, smearing the sweat off his forehead. The Talon agents made his position half way through the operation. Thanks to cover fire from McCree and Soldier, however, he made it out in one piece. The three of them provided enough of a distraction for Genji and Reaper to slip inside unnoticed, and steal all the data they needed. 

“Why not? Mission’s over, all limbs intact. Almost went sideways but didn’t! That calls for a celebration. Besides. I found out Overwatch is running another operation near where we’re going! Invited their strike team!”

“Even more reason for us not to attend…” Soldier grumbled.

“Aw, c’mon! It’s just Fareeha and Lena!” Genji said brightly, then added under his breath. “And Ana…”

Soldier and Reaper stared at him. “Ana has been hunting us. For months,” Soldier said.

“Yeah, but she agreed to put that on hold for the duration of this stuff! And, I mean, she probably won’t come. Fareeha’s coming. It would be weird.” Genji nodded, folding his arms confidently.

“Right,” Reaper growled. 

“Can we _please_ leave!” Hanzo snapped, growing more and more exasperated by the second, with a somewhat murderous glint in his eye as he stared at Genji. McCree cleared his throat, thumping a hand down on Hanzo’s shoulder. Hanzo jumped at the contact, going completely rigid, until he glanced at the hand’s owner. He sighed faintly, relaxing a little, though was still so tightly wound it seemed he could go off at any moment.

“Gettin’ outta here’s probably for the best,” McCree said, giving Hanzo’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. It was a calculated risk, one that would either end with getting decked by the overly tense man, or appeasing him. Fortunately it seemed to work, Hanzo’s shoulder sagging a little further.

“They’re right. We should move out,” Soldier barked, falling back into his default command tone. The group agreed, with Genji going along only a little grudgingly, and headed out. McCree waited, trying to bring up the rear as they moved. He had been working hard to conceal his limp, and wanted it to stay that way. But he found Hanzo hanging back with him. 

“You are injured,” Hanzo said quietly as they walked. McCree sighed. 

“Here I was hopin’ nobody’d notice. It ain’t nothin’ to worry about.”

“You are limping and lagging behind,” Hanzo countered. 

“Didn’t want anyone worryin’ none. Really! I’m fine, just got grazed…” McCree started, though the flat look Hanzo gave him said his dismissal wasn’t good enough. “Look, if I have to ask Soldier to patch me up I’ll never live it down. Stopped the bleedin’ with a nanite pack. ‘M fine!”

“You were bleeding,” Hanzo narrowed his eyes at McCree, then began examining his leg in earnest. Soon enough he spotted the holes in Jesse’s chaps where the bullet grazed his calf. The garment hid the blood quite well. “When did this occur.”

“Eh, when I was moving to provide cover after you got made.”

“This is my fault,” Hanzo said grimly.

“Nah, I was bein’ sloppy. Didn’t keep my head down.”

“If my position had not been made you would not have been required to move.”

“The group decided that was the best spot for you.”

“And yet I was still unable to remain concealed-”

“You’re workin’ real hard to make this your fault. It ain’t,” McCree finally cut him off, almost growing a little irritated. Hanzo stopped in his tracks, a look of surprise fluttering across his face. His brows furrowed as he resumed walking, keeping pace with McCree.

“I. Apologize,” Hanzo said slowly, the gears in his head almost visibly grinding away as he puzzled over...whatever. Jesse chuckled softly, knuckling Hanzo’s bicep. His gloriously tattooed, bare, firm, irresistible bicep. God he looked good. He changed out of his usual civilian attire for the mission, clad in something Jesse could only assume was more “traditional”, leaving half of his gorgeous torso and his amazing tattoo exposed to the night air. It suited him, and looked fantastic. Then again, Hanzo would probably still look mighty fine in a burlap sack.

“Ain’t nothin’ to apologize for.” 

Hanzo huffed, apparently finally accepting that he could not take responsibility for McCree’s injury. He glanced around, then after a few more strides grabbed Jesse and started dragging him into an alleyway. 

“Woah now, what’s this?” McCree asked, his head spinning a little bit at this sudden turn. He tried not to let his imagination get carried away by the possibilities.

“I will not have you limping all the way back to your safe house,” Hanzo said as he pulled what appeared to be a set of old fashioned lock picks out of one of the pouches on his belt. McCree stared, dumbfounded as he strode up to a nondescript door, and popped the lock open mere seconds later. 

“Uh...what if there’s people-”

“I am familiar with this establishment. We are safe here,” Hanzo assured him, gesturing for McCree to move inside. 

After fumbling about in the dark for a few moments, Hanzo found a light switch, revealing their location to be some sort of store room. Shelves of cardboard boxes with markings McCree couldn’t read lined the walls, and spilled into the center of the room, leaving little more than a few narrow paths winding towards a door deeper into into the establishment. Hanzo closed the door behind them.

“Remove your pants,” Hanzo ordered firmly. McCree blinked at him with surprise, before a wry smirk crept onto his lips.

“Y’know, I’d usually say somethin’ about how you need to buy me dinner first? But guess we already got that point done.”

Hanzo folded his arms, trying to give McCree an unimpressed scowl, but there was the faintest glint of a smile in his eyes, betraying him. It only made McCree’s grin grow wider. 

“If you are willing to risk having your flesh meld with your pants, you are welcome to leave them on…” Hanzo said, pulling a small medical device from the same pouch as the lock picks. McCree recognized the thing. It looked like a taser, but fortunately had quite the opposite effect. They were exceptionally effective at knitting together moderate wounds. Though they had squat for battery life. 

“Alright! Alright,” McCree chuckled as he began gingerly peeling off his chaps and pants. He tried not to wince too much, especially under Hanzo’s careful scrutiny as he undressed. He also tried not to blush too much as he found himself standing in his boxers, feeling surprisingly exposed. Though his grin returned as he caught Hanzo giving him a subtle once over. The man was cautious with his gaze, but not quite cautious enough…

Hanzo ordered him to sit on a cardboard box against the wall, and knelt to examine McCree’s injury. Blood obscured most of the wound, both dried and fairly fresh, along with a hearty black mass of deactivated clotting nanites. Hanzo scowled and tugged the gold ribbon from his hair. McCree swallowed as Hanzo’s hair tumbled over his face. While his handsome, angular features were always highlighted with it pulled back, there was something wild about his appearance with it loose.

Hanzo grabbed the gourd off his belt and wet the end of the ribbon, and began gingerly cleaning around McCree’s wound.

“Hey! What’re you doin! You’re gonna get it all bloody!”

Hanzo paused, glancing up at McCree through narrow eyes, the cloth already quite thoroughly stained. “I am aware…”

McCree sighed, shaking his head as Hanzo returned to his task. “What’s in that anyway?” He jerked his thumb at the gourd.

“It is merely water. This time.”

“This time?”

“Sometimes it is sake.”

McCree laughed. “Man after my own heart-” he cut himself off with a faint gasp as Hanzo worked his way to the raw injury itself. 

“My apologies,” Hanzo said as he continued carefully cleaning, his touch growing even lighter after McCree flinched. He scowled down at the wound. “This is more than a mere graze. It hit muscle. It is possibly worse than if the bullet had simply passed through.” Hanzo scowled at the jagged edges of the wound that looked more like some sort of brutal tear in McCree’s calf than a cut or a bullet wound. The bullet had traveled just close enough to the surface to keep from puncturing through, but instead left a trail of destruction.

“Only hit a little muscle…”

Hanzo gave him another tired glance and shook his head. “This is going to hurt,” he warned before he pinched the two sides of McCree’s injury together with one hand, holding the mending device up to the other. McCree sucked in a breath, grimacing as the device’s faint yellow light shone down on the wound. After a few moments the device worked its magic, numbing the area and coaxing the skin to glue back together. Though the yellow light started to fade before the wound was fully closed, a small trickle of fresh blood leaking out after the necessarily rough handling.

“Damn,” Hanzo grumbled, smacking the device against his palm a few times, trying to coax a little bit more life out of it. Once that failed, and McCree revealed his lack of extra nanite canisters, he sighed, and began wrapping the clean sections of ribbon around McCree’s wound as a makeshift bandage. “You will need to change this as soon as you are able,” he instructed as he tied the yellow cloth off, the soiled bloody end hanging limply to McCree’s ankle. He gently tugged at the bandage a few times, straightening out edges, his fingers gently brushing across McCree’s skin, lingering more than seemed medically necessary, and in a way that made McCree’s pulse quicken. “Be sure to massage the area when you are able as well. The mended flesh can have a tendency to heal very stiffly, and can lead to uncomfortable scarring if you are not careful.”

“Sure thing, I know the drill. Can say it ain’t my first rodeo...” McCree had to bite back a faint sigh as Hanzo’s fingers gently kneaded around the flesh that had just been healed. He was only semi successful silencing himself however, as a satisfied hum escaped him instead. After a few more moments of gentle message, Hanzo looked up at him through his hair. It was only through some small miracle McCree’s heart didn’t stop when he met that intense gaze. 

Hanzo rose slowly, bracing his hand against the wall next to McCree’s head, tantalizingly close. McCree could smell his musky sweat as Hanzo loomed over him, a surprisingly intoxicating aroma. He tilted his head up, meeting Hanzo’s half lidded, sweltering gaze. His lips parted unconsciously as Hanzo leaned ever so slightly closer. McCree felt giddy and stupid, his heart pounding in his chest. 

As soon as the moment came, it went. A dark cloud seemed to wash over Hanzo’s face, and his expression became unreadable. He straightened and took a few quick steps back, fastening the gourd back onto his belt. 

“I have some personal business to take care of. I will catch up with everyone later,” Hanzo said abruptly. With that he strode out the door, leaving McCree staring at the sea of boxes, stunned and confused as the door clicked shut. 

It took a few minutes for McCree to regain his composure. And his pants. He was almost too confused to be disappointed or hurt. Had he completely misread the situation? He thought he and Hanzo had been getting along, he could have sworn the man was going in for a kiss...that smouldering look, his unnecessarily close proximity, his gentle fingers working into his tender calf muscle. No, there was no way that had strictly been business.

McCree tried unsuccessfully to not obsess over what happened on his way back to his and Genji’s newest safe house, a modest rented out apartment. Sure, he liked Hanzo. But they’d only been on one date. This wasn’t worth fretting over. And besides, Hanzo _had_ attempted to kill Genji at some point. Maybe it was for the best? 

The acrid scent of chemicals hit him the second he stepped in the door. Genji peaked his head out of the bathroom, massaging his wet hair with rubber glove clad hands. 

“Hey, you’re back. When you disappeared with Hanzo I figured you’d be out a lot later…” he said with a grin which faded as he saw McCree’s expression. “What happened?”

McCree chewed his lip for a moment, thinking. “Hanzo’s...real good at givin’ mixed signals.”

Genji laughed, ducking back into the bathroom. “Now _that_ sounds like my brother.”

McCree just rolled his eyes and once again shucked his pants and chaps off before heading to the cramped bathroom, nudging Genji out of the way so he could properly clean his wound. He sat against the bricked edge of the bath and began unwinding the yellow ribbon from his leg. Genji side-eyed his “bandage” as he carefully began applying a new hideous smelling chemical to his hair.

“Is that his-”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry about your leg. But, that sounds like some sort of Hanzo mating ritual if I ever heard of one,” Genji chuckled, refocusing on the mirror. 

“Till the part where he bolted like a startled deer,” McCree muttered, dabbing carefully at his wound with a clean cloth. 

“Hm, yeah, that sounds less like Hanzo’s style...Weird.”

McCree scowled up at his friend. “Thanks. You’re a real help.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, he was never really. Uh. Bashful?”

McCree shrugged setting aside the cloth, his leg sufficiently cleaned up. He’ll bathe properly once Genji’s done...being Genji in there. “Don’t matter. We went on one date. Ain’t like we’re in love.” He grabbed the ribbon and strode out of the bathroom, Genji’s eyes narrowing as he watched him in the mirror.

“Probably simplest…”

McCree shut the door to his room and pulled out his first aid supplies with a huff. Like he told Genji, it was only one date, nothing to be too upset about. But the whole thing soured his mood immensely. He sat down on the bed and applied his own healing device to what little raw flesh remained, and began gingerly kneading at the newly mended skin once the wound sealed shut. He tried to block the memory of Hanzo’s warm, expert fingers massaging his leg. Firm but gentle, with precision focus even for such an insignificant task.

His mind wandered back to the mission, watching Hanzo draw his bow, seeing his perfectly sculpted muscles ripple and flex at the motion. Watching him send three arrows flying in rapid succession and all three hitting their marks perfectly. The yellow ribbon fluttering in the night air as he scrambled up the side of a building. And the ring of a gunshot and pain tearing through his leg as McCree realized he was too busy staring at the specimen of human perfection that was Hanzo Shimada to check his six.

McCree ran the bloodstained ribbon through his fingers, admiring the elegant wave pattern. It was soft, probably silk? It was a shame to have stained it so badly. Hopefully the blood would come out. 

Before he realized what he was doing McCree pressed an unsullied length of ribbon to his face, inhaling its heady scent of lavender, and faint musky undertones. He closed his eyes with a sigh, bemoaning the fact that it didn’t smell more strongly of Hanzo’s hair, most of it had simply been flapping loose, after all. Then his eyes flew open, and he tossed the ribbon at his dirty laundry, his face flushing brightly with embarrassment. He glanced at his bedroom door, making sure it was shut, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

McCree flopped back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with a scowl. He really needed to put Hanzo out of his mind. This was stupid. If Hanzo wasn’t interested, he wasn’t interested. And if Hanzo wanted to play games? McCree didn’t have time for that. It didn’t matter how gorgeous he was. Or how McCree’s heart fluttered as Hanzo’s grim expression melted into the warmest of smiles as they sat in that little dessert shop. Glancing up at McCree through those long lashes as he sipped coffee blacker than tar. How he seemed to forget to put on airs when he started talking about something he loved, just exuding enthusiasm mixed with his usual intensity. Or how warm and content he felt with Hanzo nestled up under his arm, head laying against his chest as they watched that old movie.

He threw an arm over his eyes with an audible groan. He was doing an awful job putting the whole thing out of his mind. 

 

The next day, mere hours before they were scheduled to leave, there was a polite knock on the door. McCree grabbed his Peacekeeper, holding it behind himself as he cautiously approached the door. He heard the faint click of a few of Genji’s shurikens slotting into place. No one was scheduled to drop by. 

McCree cautiously pulled open the door to reveal a courier bot. The robot held up a small parcel wrapped in white paper, addressed to McCree. Jesse blinked down at the robot, slotting his gun into his waistband before grabbing the package. The robot let out a little pleased sounding trill and whirred away.

“What is that?” Genji asked, approaching cautiously, like a cat stalking its prey, shurikens still raised. 

“‘S from Hanzo,” McCree said, his bewilderment clear in his voice as he stared down at the box.

Genji straightened and practically bounced to McCree’s side. “Really? What is it?”

McCree began unwrapping the parcel. When he opened the box it revealed a liquor bottle, containing a pale gold liquid, its label written in cyrillic. Tucked alongside the bottle was a note. McCree narrowed his eyes at Genji and picked up the note. He handed the box to the younger Shimada and took a step back as he opened the card.

_McCree,_  
_I must apologize for my sudden departure last night. I have had much on my mind. I hope we will be able to talk in the future. Meanwhile please have this. It is the same variety as what your black-clad friend served you. I believe it’s called plum brandy in English. Though the vendor assured me this brand is much smoother than what you drank.  
-Hanzo_

McCree read over the note once, then again just to be sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. He felt color rising in his cheeks, and fought to keep a doofy grin from spreading across his face. Genji was holding up the bottle, examining, and watching McCree out the corner of his eye. A wry grin spread across his lips.

“ _Someone’s got a crush on Hanzo_ …” he taunted in a singsong voice. McCree snagged the bottle out of Genji’s fingers with a snort.

“Shuddit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters keep getting longer. So much for trying to keep them short!
> 
> Also thank you to my commenters. Sorry I haven't been replying, but your support is much loved and appreciated!!! A giant pile of <3s to you all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Alcohol. So much alcohol...Next chapter as well, haha

McCree plunked his gift bottle of plum brandy on the counter, eyeing it pensively. Genji huffed out a small laugh as he toiled away, mixing disturbing amounts of liquor into an immense, self-chilling punch bowl. 

“Still haven’t cracked that open yet?” Genji asked, popping the cork on a bottle of red wine. He started pouring the whole thing into the bowl, turning the mixture a bright fuchsia, not unlike his hair. Genji decided to forego the green this time, something about not bleaching it light enough, and had tried to go pink. In the end he wound up with something decidedly radioactive and edging on red. He wore his favorite color as a loose tank top instead. That and his usual cyborg enhancements.

“Figured we’d share some when he got here,” McCree said, side-eyeing the punch suspiciously. 

“Ah, good plan. Maybe the bottle was an invitation to get him liquored up first,” Genji said, popping open another wine bottle.

“ _Genji-_ ” McCree scolded.

“Not like _that_ drunk. Just you know. A shot of the liquid courage.”

McCree huffed, watching Genji fill the bowl with every liquor under the sun. “Looks like we’re gonna have a whole damn bathtub fulla it. What _are_ you making.”

“Sangria.”

“That ain’t how you make sangria…”

Genji grinned cheekily at him. “It’s my secret recipe. Perfected over many years…”

“You know, there ain’t gonna be that many of us. Seems a bit like overkill…” 

“I figure Fareeha is going to drink a solid half by herself. The woman has the metabolism of a hummingbird,” Genji said with a shrug. McCree chuckled, looking out across their small rental house. 

It was a cute little cabin in the middle of nowhere. The kitchen contained a nice sized dining area, attached to a cozy living room, divided off by a half height wall. There was only one bedroom, however, and supposedly the couch folded out to a bed. However, considering the plan was for Genji, McCree, and Hanzo to all stay in the cabin for a few days after the party, McCree was unsure where everyone was supposed to sleep. Genji only grinned and chuckled when McCree voiced his concerns, assuring him they’d “figure it out.”

“Well, you have fun with that, I’m gonna grab a smoke,” McCree said as he levered himself away from the counter and strode out the door.

The cabin was nestled down in a forest in the middle of nowhere, a gravel road the only method of ingress. McCree couldn’t help but stare down that road, wondering when Hanzo would arrive, if he would arrive. He promised to catch up with them in time for the party, though he hadn’t sounded particularly enthusiastic at the idea. 

Fog rolled in as the sun fell, the damp felt pleasant against his face. He built a fire in the cabin’s cozy hearth as soon as they arrived, and the place warmed up quickly. Almost a little too warm. He stuck a cigarillo between his teeth and patted himself down for a lighter. Surely he hadn’t left it inside…

His search was quickly sidelined when he noticed the flash of headlights coming from down the road. He tried not to look too enthusiastic as the hover car rolled up, flicking a casual wave. Though, to his dismay, instead of Hanzo climbing out of the driver’s seat, the first thing he spotted was a silver head of hair and an orange visor. Jack stared at him as he thumped the car door shut.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, a little too confused to even sound like his usual commanding self. 

McCree snapped his mouth shut, also perplexed. He was about to ask when they changed their minds about coming, but that reaction didn’t make it sound like they had.

Reaper climbed out of the passenger’s seat, leveling a glare at McCree over the roof of the car. He almost looked normal, dressed in a dark hoodie and ratty jeans, his sickly grayish skin covered under a mountain of makeup. If he had been wearing a beanie, it would have been just like Blackwatch again. He pulled a communicator from his pocket, not breaking his steady glare.

“Hey Sombra,” Gabe barked into the communicator.

A tired sounding woman groaned back at him. “What, I’m trying to sleep…”

“Did you rent the safehouse out to Genji and McCree?” Reaper growled, his voice dropping to such an unearthly, deadly timber it nearly made McCree shiver.

“Yeah,” the woman replied casually.

“WHY?”

Laughter rang brightly over the communicator in lieu of an answer. Gabe emitted another annoyed growl and turned the device off, flicking it back into the car. “We’re leaving.”

“Gabe...it took hours to get out here. Where else would we go? Besides, your face is melting.” Jack said gently. Gabe reached a finger up to his face, scraping a nail across his cheek, leaving a black streak and a chunk of something stuck to his finger. He grunted.

“Fine.”

McCree grinned. “Howdy. Guess you’re comin’ to the party after all.”

“The bedroom is ours,” Gabe growled, yanking a duffle bag out of the car and stomping his way inside. Jack just shook his head with a resigned sigh, shouldering his own bag and shadowing Gabe.

Not more than two steps inside, Reaper stopped dead in his tracks, Jack nearly bumping into him.

“You look like a watermelon.” 

“Hey! You decided to come!” Genji called brightly.

“Not exactly…”

McCree shook his head as the door clicked shut and resumed the search for his lighter. Finally plucking it from his breast pocket. McCree lit up and took a long, satisfying drag. He could faintly hear Gabe and Genji nattering at each other, just like old times. At least for the rare occasions Genji was on base. Gabe kept him in the field a lot, to make it less obvious to everyone when the little flake would go AWOL. 

He leaned against the cabin, watching the cigarillo smoke twist away into the night air, when the flash of headlights again flickered through the trees again. McCree watched eagerly, though this time half expecting it to be Fareeha and Lena instead of Hanzo, since the night was already jerking him around. 

As the vehicle drew closer, the sound revealed itself to be a motorcycle. McCree leaned forward, squinting through the dark eagerly. He still wouldn’t put a motorcycle past the girls, but it seemed less likely. 

The motorcycle pulled up next to Gabe and Jack’s car, the solo rider dressed all in black kevlar motorcycle gear. McCree tried not to look too hungry as he gave Hanzo a once over, his prosthetic feet giving him away despite the helmet. Even the thick protective pants and jacket were somehow flattering on the man, looking rugged and adventurous. He sat back and pulled his helmet off, shaking out his hair. His silky, recently flattened locks fell free, brushing his shoulders, like one of McCree’s fantasies come to life. It was all he could do to hold back a longing whimper.

“ _Niiice…_ ” he breathed, despite himself. Hanzo quirked a brow at him, as he raked his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp after hours of suffocation under his helmet.

“I beg your pardon?”

McCree cleared his throat, grinning. “That’s a mighty fine ride you got there. That thing vintage?” He covered, Hanzo only looked mildly skeptical as he climbed off the bike. It was indeed a nice piece of machinery, all angles and sharp lines that hadn’t been the style for decades. Not to mention it had tires. 

Hanzo nodded. “It’s a 2030s Ducati. Though I am merely borrowing it.”

McCree hummed with approval, trying to drag his lecherous gaze down to the bike, instead of what he really wanted to stare at. God _damn_ the man was gorgeous. 

“I see your friends from Overwatch have already arrived,” Hanzo said, nodding to the car. McCree chuckled.

“Nah, not yet. Gabe ‘n Jack decided to go ‘n show up.” 

Hanzo blinked at him, hanging his helmet off the handlebars. “Who?”

McCree cringed. Right. They had been using code names up until now. “...Oopse. Er. Well, cat’s gonna be outta the bag either way I figure. Reaper ‘n Soldier: 76.”

Hanzo squinted at him as he slowly started unhooking his bags from the motorcycle, starting with an especially long case strapped along the side. “Does this mean they are the ‘Jack and Gabe’ I think they are?”

“Prolly.”

“And are they are both supposed to be deceased, are they not?”

“Yup.”

Hanzo grunted. “I should not be surprised.”

“Yeah, seems folks in Overwatch are real bad at stayin’ dead.”

“A useful skill,” Hanzo chuckled faintly, shaking his head as he loosened the remaining straps.

McCree ground out his cigarillo and picked up Hanzo’s dufflebag, grinning. “Lemme give you a hand with that.”

Hanzo looked like he was about to protest, then nodded stiffly. “Ah, thank you.” He headed to the house, McCree following, but not too close on his heels. How else was he going to give the man another inconspicuous once over? 

He tried so hard after their strange encounter in that store room to put a leash on what was obviously something growing into an infatuation, apology liquor bottle or no. But _damn_ if he didn’t look good…

Before they got past their preliminary hellos, Fareeha and Lena appeared, with wide grins, and bottles of wine in their fists. 

“We’re here to _party!_ ” Tracer exclaimed in her best rocker impersonation, holding the bottles up triumphantly. Though her eyes grew round when she spotted Jack and Gabe, a wide smile appearing on her lips. “You came! I’ve missed you guys!”

Lena disappeared in a blue streak, then reappeared between Jack and Gabe, an arm around each of them in an awkward, wine bottle encumbered hug. Both men stood stiffly, exchanging uneasy glances as Fareeha strode forward, smiling.

“It is good to see you.” She stopped in front of them, giving the pair a once over. “Jack, I forgive you for tranqing me. Gabriel, it’s good to see you, and I promise not to tell my mother you’re here,” she said with a fond smile and a wink. 

The two exchanged glances again, but before either could respond, the tiny woman between them gave them an additional squeeze, trying her best to shake them both. “Why didn’t you two TELL us you were a couple!”

“Well, it probably would have made it a lot harder for Jack to break me out of your prison cell…” Gabe droned.

“Pshaw!”

“I’m gonna need a drink…” Jack grumbled.

“Well, the sangria is done! Probably needs to chill a bit more, but other than that it’s good to go!” Genji offered. 

Jack and Gabe immediately dug in, chilled or not.

The party progressed more or less peacefully for a while. The punch was delicious, (McCree refused to think of it as sangria,) and everyone seemed content to socialize. Even Gabe stopped being so much of a grump after a while. McCree could feel the tension radiating off of Hanzo, so he gave the man some space. For now. Genji and Fareeha spent an inordinate amount of time picking their background music, while Lena chatted enthusiastically with Hanzo. She kept glancing at McCree with a devilish glint in her eye the cowboy was a little afraid to try and interpret. He hadn’t told her about the date. Had Genji? Could she just… _tell?_ He doubted Hanzo told her.

An hour or so later, the door burst open. A woman with half of her head shaved, purple highlights, spectacular makeup, and even more impressive nails strode in, holding a bottle of tequila in the air. “We’re here! Now let’s get this party started!” she announced, with a pronounced Mexican accent.

A second woman followed on her heels, a little hesitantly, dressed in an elegant gold and blue sari. She eyed the group, the exquisitely crafted fingers of her prosthetic fidgeting with her long black hair. 

“Who invited you?” Reaper growled. The first woman just smiled.

“No one. Which was very rude, by the way, considering this is my house.”

McCree scratched his beard, looking the woman over. “You seem awfully familiar. Ain’t I met you somewhere before?”

She smiled at him, waving with a flourish of fingers. “Hello, Jesse.”

McCree opened his mouth to stammer a confused response, but Gabe interrupted him.

“Everyone, this is Sombra. Sombra, I assume you already know who they all are,” he grumbled, trailing off half heartedly. “She’s a... ‘Colleague.’” 

“And this is my lovely date, Satya,” Sombra said, sweeping her hand back to the second woman.

“Hello,” Satya said, straightening stiffly at the sudden introduction. “I did not realize we were uninvited.” 

“Nah, we’re welcome here! Don’t listen to Gabe, he’s a stick in the mud, right, Genji? Love the new color, by the way,” Sombra said, gesturing to his hair. Genji looked a little dumbfounded.

“Uh, I guess if you’re friends with Gabe it’s fine?”

“I’m friends with Jesse here, too, but I think our poor cowboy might have had a bit too much to drink that night?”

McCree stared at her, raking through his memories trying to figure out where he’d seen her before. He generally tried not to drink too much, he usually only had two modes when drunk: Sullen and lonely, or line dancing on tables. There was no in between. And neither mode tended to be particularly flattering. Then he finally remembered.

“Oh right, you were at that bar in Dorado...”

“Bingo,” Sombra said with a wink and a finger gun. 

McCree winced. That was not his best evening. “Wait. If you’n Gabe here know each other- were y’all _spyin’_ on me?”

“I take no responsibility for that woman’s actions,” Gabe defended, quickly.

“I can always count on you, Gabe…” Sombra said.

McCree shook his head. He was never going to get a straight answer out of either of these two. Oh well. Past was past now… Either way this party just got a little more interesting.

* * *

Hanzo stared down at his half drank mug of “sangria.” Genji forgot to purchase cups, and the cabin didn’t have enough glasses to go around. So he got a coffee mug. There was something...fitting about that. It went with the rest of his brother’s ill conceived party. He was pacing himself with it, though. He wanted, no, needed to talk to McCree tonight, and while it was tempting to get so shit faced he’d just blurt what he was feeling in an embarrassing drunken tirade and get it over with, he figured the clear headed, or mostly clear headed approach was for the best. He still wasn’t about to go into that conversation stone sober.

He felt guilty for that night when he dragged McCree off to patch his leg. He had been incredibly selfish the entire time. He wanted the man alone, to himself, and trapped him in some small room. He wanted to touch him, caressing his calf, trying not to let McCree see when his eyes drifted over the cowboy’s hairy legs, and really tried not to notice the bulge in his boxers. But there it was. He wanted to run his hands over McCree’s skin, hold him, kiss him, drag the rest of his clothes off in that dingy store room. 

Hanzo took a sip of sangria, trying to banish the heat practically radiating from the memory. He could tell McCree wanted it too. Well, at least the kiss part. Quite possibly the sex in a dingy storeroom part, but that was a little harder to say. But then, at the last possible second, he remembered. McCree was Genji’s friend. One of Genji’s closest friends, from the sound of it. Genji, his brother. The brother he tried to murder. How could he even consider such a conquest? The date had been a fun lark, a fluke. A brief bit of peace and contentment away from the miserable hell his life had become. The hell he deserved to dwell in for what he did.

And, all guilt aside, there was just something fundamentally weird about fucking his brother’s best friend in a random back room.

He should have simply slowed down, gotten a grip, and _talked_ to McCree like an adult. Instead he panicked, and fled. Like a child. Or an idiot. Or both.

Though now in a casual, calm, and liquor enhanced environment the prospects of talking to him like an adult were still daunting. Despite the fact he hadn’t just had an adrenaline filled close call on a mission. And McCree was even wearing pants. 

The cabin was small, made even smaller by the presence of nine people. It’s not like he could avoid McCree, and putting it off too much longer would start becoming unbearably awkward.

Hanzo reluctantly rose from the couch. McCree was all the way in the kitchen, and a small, embarrassing dance party had developed between Hanzo and his quarry, consisting of Genji (of course,) Lena, Satya, and Soldier: 76, of all people. Or Jack, he supposed. 

It was still bizarre to think of those two on a first name basis. Bizarrer still to see Reaper- no, ‘Gabe’ without his mask. Without the name to go by, he never would have recognized the man, with his skin tinged gray, pitch black eyes, and a series of black, necrotic blotches all over his exposed skin, which Hanzo could swear had already changed configuration during the evening. It was chilling. Though watching him glare at Jack as the soldier dance in a manner reminiscent of the flailings of a brain damaged moose helped drain away some of the mystique around the pair.

“You. Are. An. Embarrassment,” Reaper growled, leaning against the wall next to Jack, who grabbed the sullen wraith’s hands in response, trying to drag him into the dancing. 

“Then teach me some moves,” Jack prompted with a wide grin. Gabe leveled an unsettling glare on him, which the man seemed to be completely impervious to, pulling on Reaper’s hands in a vaguely rhythmic manner. 

“Since when do I have ‘moves’,” Gabe grumbled.

“I know your ballroom dancing secret. Show me a tango! Or whatever!”

“Jack. That was high school. You know. About a thousand years ago,” Gabe sighed, rolling his eyes, or presumably, considering the look on his face. It was hard to see what his pitch black eyes were doing at any given time. Jack persisted, and successfully managed to at least drag the man off the wall, though he still stubbornly refused to dance.

“You did ballroom dancing!?” Lena exclaimed with delight.

“Yes.” Gabe said flatly, while Jack grinned.

“Yeah, he and his partner won the California state competition! I swear the tabloids would rediscover those photos every five years or so…” Jack filled in, helpfully, while Gabe threw his head back with an exhausted groan.

“Really?! You?! I never would have pictured it!” Lena squealed. Reaper sighed, finally looking resigned.

“Yes, one of my friends was really passionate about ballroom dancing. But her parents were extremely overprotective, and didn’t want some horny teenage boy having his hands all over their precious little girl. So she recruited me, the gayest boy in school, to be her partner. It appeased her parents, she got to dance,” he explained.

“Gayest boy in school?” Genji asked, skeptically. Hanzo also blinked at that. It seemed a little hard to believe.

“The only outerwear I owned for like two years was a leather motorcycle jacket with a giant rainbow flag I hand appliqued to the back.”

“Ah! That’d do it.”

Hanzo started trying to scoot his way around the cluster, when Jack hurled himself into an awkward forced dip in Gabriel’s arms, grinning as Gabe caught him reflexively. “See! You still remember your moves.”

Reaper leaned over him, dipping him back dangerously far, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “I will drop you.”

Jack wrapped his arms around Gabe’s neck. “Oh yeah?”

Reaper snorted, a wry smirk spreading across his lips, before he turned into a cloud, Jack falling flat on his back with a loud thump, his arms passing straight through his now immaterial dance partner. He stared up at the ceiling. “I really should have seen that coming…”

“ _Pendejo…_ ” Gabe chided with a fond grin as he rematerialized over Jack, and helped the man to his feet. Just as Hanzo thought he had finally scooched his way past the dancing idiots unscathed, Genji grabbed Lena, tossing her into a proper dip, and straight into Hanzo’s arm, sending the remains of his drink flying everywhere.

Lena, disconcertingly zipped backwards out of the motion faster than Hanzo could see, suddenly standing where she was before. “Oh no! I’m so sorry! We’ll clean it up!”

From there it was a flurry of motion, seemingly turning into a competition among the dancers (except Gabe, who really couldn’t be bothered) to see who could most effectively clean the bright red stain off the floor.

Overwhelmed by this new flurry of stupidity, Hanzo didn’t notice McCree slide in behind him, until the cowboy tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, I was gonna step out ‘n grab a smoke. Wanna join me?”

“Yes,” Hanzo said, a little more fervently than he intended, drawing a faint chuckle from McCree. 

McCree held open the door, waving Hanzo through, the bottle of plum brandy clutched in his hand. Hanzo raised a brow. 

“Figured we could share a nip while we’re out here! Haven’t cracked it open yet,” he drawled with a wink. Hanzo couldn’t help but smile as they stepped outside. The fresh air felt amazing, Hanzo hadn’t realized just how stuffy the cabin had become.

McCree handed him the bottle of brandy as he lit up a cigarillo. He offered Hanzo one, which he politely declined. Though he did enjoy the sweet, warm scent of tobacco smoke. Especially when it was exhaled from the enticing, plump lips of a ruggedly handsome cowboy. Hanzo had to shake himself as McCree caught his gaze, giving him a wry look. _Focus._

McCree gestured forward again, and started walking off into the woods. Hanzo shook himself out of his stupor and fell in step beside him. The full moon filtered through the trees, giving them some illumination as they made their way further from the cabin. At least there wasn’t too much underbrush to trip on. 

Hanzo finally cleared his throat, trying not to get distracted by the eerie beauty of the silver moonlight speckling the forest floor, or the alluring warmth and scent of his nearby companion- _Focus!_

“I was meaning to talk to you,” Hanzo started, managing to drive the hesitation out of his voice, and managing to almost sound commanding and annoyed instead. _Smooth…_

“Yeah?” McCree said coolly. 

Hanzo took a deep breath to steady himself. Talking about these things was the worst. “I meant to apologize. For my behavior.”

“I thought that’s what the bottle was for. Thank you, by the way. Was real thoughtful,” McCree said, flashing him a smile. 

Hanzo sighed. “Yes, there is that. But. How do I say this? I greatly enjoyed our date. And your company. A great deal. However, given some time to think, I have come to realize, it would not be proper for us t-”

“You know Genji’s fine with us datin’. Right?” McCree interrupted. 

Hanzo stopped dead in his tracks, McCree sauntering on for a few more strides before he realized he lost his companion. Hanzo felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Or had a bucket of water dumped on his head. How many he hours had he spent agonizing over this? Thinking of the best way to gently turn McCree away, and deny himself the cowboy’s company because of potential complications with his brother?

“Wha-” Hanzo stammered, scrambling to formulate a sentence, so he wouldn’t stand there looking like an idiot, which he did anyway.

“That’s what you’re worried ‘bout, right?” He gestured again, beckoning Hanzo to follow. Hanzo did, wordlessly, still trying to scramble for a reply as McCree led them to a small clearing. A pool of moonlight on soft moss and delicate ferns. McCree settled down next to a large tree at the very edge, patting the ground next to him, inviting Hanzo to sit. He followed, kneeling next to McCree, a little reluctantly. 

“How do you know he’s-?”

“I asked him,” McCree grinned at the dumbfounded look on Hanzo’s face.

Hanzo took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tilted his head back, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot. Just asking Genji if it would be a problem. Why didn’t he think of that? But of course he didn’t think about it. Asking his younger brother for permission to date someone was _beyond_ absurd. Then again, if the notion was so ridiculous, why had it held him up in the first place? 

McCree clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Wanna crack open that bottle?”

Hanzo looked down at the brandy still clutched in his hand. He roughly twisted open the seal and took a huge gulp in one fluid motion. Then nearly choked as the liquor burned all the way down.

“The vendor _lied_ ,” Hanzo hissed, coughing as he held the bottle away. McCree barked out a laugh, snagging the bottle for himself.

The cowboy took a swig, his eye only twitching a little. “Smooth…” He wheezed. “Smoother than the last stuff at least.”

Hanzo shook his head, still reeling a little, but unable to chase the smile from his lips. McCree had a knack for causing that. “And you liked the last stuff?”

“It grows on you.”

Hanzo sighed, shifting to lean against the tree, bumping shoulders with McCree as he took the bottle back to give it a second try. “I am an idiot.” He took a much more...measured sip. It still burned going down, but he could at least pick up on some of the more subtle flavors. Not bad. Not _good_ , but not bad.

“Nah. You ‘n Genji are in a weird spot. Makes sense. ‘S why I thought to ask him in the first place. Lot easier for me to than you. But I bet he’d be glad you were thinkin’ ‘bout him.” McCree took the bottle as Hanzo handed it back, taking another swig. “Bet this shit’d make one hellova molotov cocktail…”

Hanzo snorted. “Likely…” He took the bottle, and another measured sip, and set it aside as McCree waved it away. “I was unaware you could make kerosene out of plums.” 

“Learn somethin’ new every day…” McCree said wistfully, glancing at Hanzo with a shit eating grin on his face. Hanzo hummed in agreement.

The forest was beautiful, enchanting in the silver light. But Hanzo couldn’t draw his gaze away from McCree, and the glowing orange ember at the end of his cigarillo. The way he reclined comfortably against the tree as if it were as soft as any fine furniture. His relaxed smile. There was something contagious about the aura of peacefulness he seemed to exude. It felt like they could just sit in contented silence until sunlight began filtering through the trees. But Hanzo had something a little more urgent in mind, now that McCree successfully managed to abolish all of his hang ups in one sentence. 

Hanzo plucked the cigarillo from McCree’s mouth without warning, grinding the ember into the tree trunk. McCree blinked in surprise as Hanzo moved to straddle him, kneeling, looming over him. He ran his fingers through McCree’s wild hair, his other hand trailing down the side of his face, caressing his jaw line. He trailed two fingers under McCree’s chin, tilting his face up. 

Fires of longing twisted inside him. He hadn’t felt like this for anyone in years. McCree’s eyes slid half lidded as he gazed back up at Hanzo. His lips parted ever so slightly, and there was no holding back. Hanzo pressed his lips against McCree’s, hard, tasting the lingering smoke and brandy on his lips. McCree leaned up into him, his back arching off the tree as he slid his hands around Hanzo’s waist.

After a few long moments, savoring the taste, Hanzo deepened the kiss, trailing his tongue along McCree’s lips, which parted in the most welcoming manner. He sucked McCree’s lower lip between his teeth, biting down gently and teasing it with his tongue, drawing a moan from the man that sent shivers down Hanzo’s spine. 

After a long, delightful while, their lips finally parted. Hanzo felt light headed, almost giddy. McCree smiled up at him, out of breath. 

“ _Damn,_ Darlin…” McCree managed after a few beats. Hanzo smiled, running his fingers through the cowboy’s hair again. His fingers tightened, clutching a fistfull of McCree’s unruly locks as he tried to surge up and meet Hanzo’s lips, stopping him. McCree whimpered another sound that sent fire through Hanzo’s body. 

“You like that?” Hanzo purred, pulling McCree’s hair, dragging his head even further back, giving Hanzo access to his exposed neck. McCree rumbled in agreement as Hanzo’s lips brushed his skin. His wandering hands slid down to cup a handful of Hanzo’s ass. 

“Yeah...I think we’re gonna get along _just fine_...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep the chapters short, I tell myself. End up with a 20 page chapter instead and have to split it in two. Argle. Whelp, at least now yall know what the delay was, and know next chapter will be on time. HOPE YOU ENJOYED <3 Thanks for your support, your comments mean a lot!


	6. Chapter 6

_Meanwhile…_

Gabe sipped his sangria, eyeing the rag tag group of weirdos, speeding their way down the road of intoxication with far more enthusiasm than probably half of them realized. The night wasn’t turning out so bad after all, he would have to remember to thank Jack for encouraging him to stay. 

It seemed they were down by a certain cowboy and a certain Shimada. Gabe bit back a smirk. McCree and Hanzo had surely slipped off to go do something untoward in the woods. Good for them. And good for McCree. Gabe lied before, Hanzo was easily a solid 10. And McCree deserved a little happiness, even if it was down and dirty in the woods with Genji’s murderous elder brother. Then again, anyone who knew Genji for more than a few minutes at a time probably had the urge to kill him at some point. Gabe could only imagine the agony of being related to him.

He was a little surprised at how welcoming of his presence Lena and Fareeha were. Then again it shouldn’t have come as too big a shock; from the way Jack told it, when Overwatch finally captured him, (and before Jack helpfully liberated him,) those two had been on the fence about what to do about him. They both looked up to him before he died, and wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. He found it mildly irritating that Overwatch thought they could take the moral high ground on him when they were operating illegally anyway, maybe they were also cognizant of the hypocrisy. 

He had to admit, it was nice seeing the kids again, at least as someone other than their prisoner. Or an enemy combatant. He didn’t relish shooting at Lena (shooting at Winston was another matter entirely.) But it was nothing personal. And she seemed remarkably understanding. Then again Lena was always a sucker for a good love story, and finding out he and Jack were a couple seemed to render literally anything he did automatically forgiven.

Even socializing with Sombra was entertaining in its own right. Her “cleverness” was fun when they weren’t trying to work.

Sombra’s new friend, Satya strode up to him, looking him over with critical eyes. She hadn’t directly spoken to Gabe yet. Or many people, for that matter. Though from the looseness of her gait, it also seemed she may have finally ingested enough sangria to open up a little. She stared at him with a kind of open fascination, like she was trying to dissect him with her eyes. Gabe scowled, lucky for her she was Sombra’s friend, or such a gaze would have resulted in immediate hostility. Instead he just watched her, waiting.

She stood there. Staring. Until the silence grew awkward. Gabe cleared his throat. “So... You’re Sombra’s friend.”

“Yes.”

“Does this mean you’re a friend-friend, or a _friend_ -friend?” Gabe asked. Satya narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. 

“I do not follow your meaning…”

He nodded. “Then that probably means you’re a friend-friend. That’s good.”

She pursed her lips. “Are you mocking me?”

“No.” Reaper narrowed his eyes at the woman, sipping his drink. She nodded sharply.

“My apologies if I was staring. I am curious. How do you work?” she asked. 

Gabe scowled. “I beg your pardon?”

“Are you not composed of nanites?”

Gabe sneered, his face melting away into a shifting black mass, leaving a smile of far too many teeth. He slowly started transforming himself into the most horrifying visage he’d managed to concoct (he practiced in front of a mirror a few times,) giving himself long, jagged fangs, claws, growing in size as tentacles and wisps of bubbling ichor rose from his body and flickered in and out of existence. He rumbled out a response in an deep, wavering voice that was unnatural even by his standards. “Why do you want to know?”

He’d broken people in interrogations out of pure fear doing things like this, and even heard Fareeha string together some choice obscenities from across the room. Satya, however, remained completely unphased, tilting her head, curious.

“I have been considering ways to incorporate nanites into my hard light technologies. Your ability to remain a cohesive whole while having such a degree of flexibility in your shape must be immensely useful,” she said, matter of a factly, not even flinching as Gabe leaned forward, his grizzly fangs dripping black mock liquid. After a few more moments of no reaction, he snapped back to his regular form, smiling. Impressed.

“Yeah, it’s pretty handy.” He folded his arms, looking her over as she continued to study him. “Really, that didn’t shake you at all?” he asked, as Sombra strolled up to her side, apparently summoned by Gabe’s menacing shape shifting.

She frowned, looking vaguely puzzled. “No. Why would it?”

Gabe wheezed out a laugh, a black puff of misplaced nanites going with it. He draped his arm around Satya’s shoulders, winking at Sombra. “I like this one.”

“Do not touch me,” Satya demanded, firmly, but calmly. Gabe immediately turned to mist, recoiling away.

“Sorry, sorry…”

Satya inclined her head, still looking mostly impassive. “I accept your apology, and thank you for respecting my boundaries.”

Sombra chuckled and drifted away, seeing the situation did not need any intervention, leaving Satya and Gabe to sink into a long discussion of nanite and hard light technologies. Unfortunately, Gabe didn’t know as much about his own physiology as he would like, but he had certainly done a fair amount of nanite research over the years trying to figure it out.

Their discussion was interrupted a while later when Fareeha let out an agonized yell. She bounded from the kitchen, through Gabe and Satya’s civil conversation, to Genji at the other side of the cabin, holding up her phone.

“Genji! Genji! You won’t believe this! Angela! She just posted- she’s dating _Mei now!_ ”

“WHAT!” the fuchsia haired cyborg cried, grabbing the phone from Fareeha’s hand. “I thought she said she didn’t date colleagues!”

“That’s what she told me too!” Fareeha exclaimed miserably, both of them very much forgetting to use their indoor voices.

“How could she! How could she do this to me! To both of us!”

“I KNOW! That lying harpy!”

“Hey now! Guys...be nice…” Lena interjected, appearing by their sides.

“I know, I know…” Fareeha said, her volume finally reduced thanks to the tears now rising in her voice. “She’s an angel. I just can’t believe. Were we not good enough for her?!”

Gabe took a few steps away from what was quickly and violently spiraling into some sort of drunken, self pity vortex, and bumped into Jack. 

“This is why you shouldn’t try and date your co workers,” Jack said, looping an arm around Gabe’s waist. The wraith snorted, reaching back to pat Jack’s head, successfully groping his face instead, before his fingers finally found their way to his hair.

“Hypocrite,” Gabe chided.

“Only when it comes to you.”

“You two make a charming couple,” Satya said, a sincere smile crinkling the corners of her eyes as she watched the pair, though she bowed, taking a step back, excusing herself to go find Sombra as the Genji-Fareeha angst tornado continued to spiral out of control.

“This looks like it’ll go on for a while. It’s hot in here. Want to get some air?” Jack asked.

“God yes.”

Gabriel staggered out of the cabin, his stride unsteady partly from alcohol, but mostly from having Jack clinging to him like some sort of drunk octopus. He laughed, he hadn’t seen Jack this drunk in decades. It was good to see he was still a handsy, happy drunk even after all this time.

“I thought the point of this was to get some air,” Gabe chuckled as Jack tightened his grip around him and buried his face in his neck.

“You smell nice…” Jack muttered into his shoulder.

“I sincerely doubt that,” Gabe grumbled back playfully.

“I think you’re like. Offgassing alcohol through your nanites? It’s a little metallic too, but also smells like you.”

“That doesn’t sound pleasant at all…”

“Eau de Gabriel.”

Gabe laughed. “How did no one discover how big a dork you are for all those years?” he asked, twisting around in Jack’s grip. He stole a kiss from the grinning idiot, running his fingers through Jack’s receding gray hair.

“I was too boring for anyone to notice,” Jack said, returning the gesture with a distant smile. 

“I doubt that.”

“Well, maybe it’s because I just didn’t realize how in love with you I was for so long. And you bring out the best in me.”

“Oh? You mean your dorky side?” Gabriel teased.

“I don’t know, my happy side?” Jack stole another kiss. “I love you,” he murmured against Gabriel’s lips. 

“I love you too,” Gabe purred back. 

“We should elope,” Jack said, a smile twisting his lips even as he kept them pressed against Gabe’s.

Gabe chuckled. “Go home, soldier, you’re drunk.”

“We should!”

“Jack...I love you. But we’re both legally dead _and_ wanted criminals. How would that even work?”

Jack’s brow furrowed as he puzzled out Gabe’s question, pulling away slightly. “I don’t know... Maybe break into the Bloomington County Records Department. Steal a couple marriage certificates. Hack into the system and put our names on the record,” Jack said, his smile slowly growing wider as he talked. “It would really fuck with some investigative reporter some day.”

Gabe laughed. “You have been spending _way_ too much time with me. I love it.”

“We should do it.”

Gabe leaned back, his arms still looped around Jack’s waist as he blinked, trying to make out Jack’s eyes through the orange glow of his visor. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Yeah!”

Gabriel just stared at Jack in dumbfounded silence for several long moments. Until he came to the only response he could: to grab Jack by the face and kiss him until he begged to come up for air.

* * *

Hanzo felt good. A little flushed from probably just a bit too much plum brandy, and still practically glowing from what he and McCree shared under that tree. The drinks almost felt like a celebration of...the end of a dry spell? Hanzo bit back a smirk, it was almost lucky neither thought to bring protection. Otherwise who knows how long they would have spent out in the freezing woods. That just meant more to look forward to next time...

As nice as the privacy was, however, it was a getting a little cold out. Hanzo casually bumped into McCree’s side as they walked back to the cabin. McCree bumped him back. The gesture felt playful, familiar. Why was it so easy to be around this man? It felt like he could let his guard down around McCree, without it being a sign of weakness.

He almost concocted an explanation for why he couldn’t come to the party, so he could just avoid it all together. But he determined it was unlikely he could find an out that wouldn’t offend both McCree and his brother. So he braced himself for what was sure to be an awkward and unpleasant conversation after he bolted on McCree that night. The idea that McCree had thought to seek Genji’s permission for their relationship was both embarrassing and endearing. And it successfully solved pretty much all of Hanzo’s hangups. 

As they neared the cabin they discovered Gabe pinned on the hood of a car by Jack. The gray haired man hoisted one of the wraith’s knees up by his hip, settled comfortably between his thighs, their faces pressed together in a fervent round of kissing that would be the envy of most horny high schoolers. Though, by far the most alarming part of the scene was when Hanzo realized instead of having his arms wrapped around Jack, instead Gabe seemed to have enfolded the man in several tentacles, the black tendrils holding the other man close and slithering under his clothes.

“That ain’t right…” McCree drawled, loudly enough to announce their presence. Jack started to look up, only to have his head dragged back down by an army of small tentacles, while some of the other tendrils dematerialized, and rematerialized into a human hand, giving McCree the finger behind Jack’s back. McCree laughed, and Hanzo quickened his pace, trying not to think too hard about what he just witnessed. 

As soon as he stepped inside, he heard Genji’s slurred voice.

“We don’t need makeup because we’re _beautiful!_ ” Genji cried from the bedroom, though it sounded more like an exclamation of defiance than an affirmation. Hanzo stopped suddenly, McCree bumping into him. Hanzo felt overwhelmed with deja vu, like this was some kind of horrifying flashback from his late teen years made flesh in his late thirties...

“Yeah! We’re _fucking beautiful_ ” Fareeha replied, sounding equally defiant. 

“I wholeheartedly agree. But I strongly advise you three switch to drinking water…” an unfamiliar, artificial sounding voice said, though it was substantially more muffled than the other two. 

“Yeah! You’re both perfect!” Lena chimed.

McCree chucked and excused himself to go ‘take a leak’, thrusting the half empty bottle of brandy into Hanzo’s hands. He shook his head at the crudeness, but not without a smile.

Hanzo peered into the bedroom, curiosity getting the best of him. Genji, Lena, and Fareeha had all piled on top of the bed, along with a tablet video chatting someone Hanzo couldn’t make out. Genji’s fuscia hair stuck up every which way, and Fareeha’s eyes looked red and puffy like she’d been crying, while Lena sat cross legged behind her, petting her and braiding her hair. The whole pile looked like an absolute mess, but at least unlike the scene outside there was nothing horrifying or sexual about this particular disaster. 

“Zenny? You think I’m beautiful?” Genji said, picking up the tablet, staring at it intensely.

“Of course, Genji, you are beautiful within, and without,” the serene voice on the tablet said with such a degree of warmth and sincerity even Hanzo had to smile a little bit. Genji, for his part, emitted something of an overjoyed whine and hugged the tablet to his chest, flopping backwards on the bed.

Hanzo stepped away from the door, leaving those four to their...drama.

The punch bowl was empty. Hanzo marveled at it as he set the bottle of brandy on the counter. No wonder the pile in the bedroom was such a mess, and the old guys were about to have sex on the hood of a car. Then he realized, where were the other two women? He glanced around with a frown, though as he did he heard faint giggling. 

Hanzo furrowed his brow, looking for the source of the sound. It wasn’t a large cabin. There weren’t many places they could be. Though the harder he looked, bending to check under the table, peering out the window, the more intense the laughter grew. 

“Where’s that gigglin’ comin’ from?” McCree asked, appearing behind Hanzo. At that the giggles escalated to a fevered pitch. One of the voices snorted loudly in her attempt not to laugh, which then just set off a round of full on cackling. 

“I strongly suspect we are the least-drunk individuals on the premises,” Hanzo said, giving up on his search, as McCree slipped an arm around his waist, snuggling up behind him.

“I suspect you’re right,” McCree said, leaning his chin on Hanzo’s shoulder. 

“So, you boys gonna put on a show for us?” Sombra’s voice crooned out of thin air, accompanied by the giggles of her companion.

“Nah, but ‘m pretty sure Jack ‘n Gabe are about to have freaky tentacle sex outside,” McCree offered, jerking his thumb towards the door. 

Urgent whispers drifted out from nowhere, followed by footsteps scuffling off to the exit, and more giggling. A few moments later the door swung open, and then shut again, seemingly of its own accord.

“Why did you tell them that?!” Hanzo scolded. McCree gave him a light squeeze, chuckling. 

“I’m sure the snickerin’ will give ‘em away before they get an eyeful.”

Hanzo sighed, twisting in McCree’s grip. He smirked up at the man. “What did my brother put in that punch?”

“Just a ‘lotta booze. ‘N fruit. ‘Less someone spiked it with somethin’ else.”

“I certainly hope not…”

“Yeah, don’t think any of the regular crew would. Dunno ‘bout that Sombra character. But from the sounds of it she’s ‘bout as blitzed as everyone else.”

Hanzo hummed, rising up on his toes to steal a kiss, brushing his fingers through McCree’s hair again, when he spotted it: a huge, black and purple welt on McCree’s neck. 

“Nice, ain’t it?” McCree grinned, as Hanzo flushed red.

“I-I did not intend to leave such a...mark,” Hanzo sputtered, gently rearranging McCree’s collar in an attempt to hide it, but it was futile. Short of popping his collar it was going to peek out anyway. And a popped collar on a brown flannel shirt would look absurd.

“Honey, if you thought what you were doin’ wasn’t gonna leave a mark...I got news,” McCree chuckled. 

“I didn’t meant to! I mean, it’s too high...I got carried away,” Hanzo said, still flustered, while McCree kept grinning at him with that sly smirk.

“Yeah you did.” McCree looked absolutely smug, holding his head high, wearing the obnoxious hickey like a badge of honor. 

Hanzo sighed, a wicked grin making its way onto his lips. He rested his hands on McCree’s shoulders, raised up on his toes and leaned in, and gently nipped McCree’s bruise. The cowboy flinched, sucking in a breath.

“Darlin! That’s tender!”

“I know,” Hanzo purred against his neck. He flicked his tongue across the mark, drawing a shiver and a low rumbling chuckle from McCree.

“Damn...if that bedroom weren’t occupied right now,” he murmured.

Hanzo snuck one last kiss under McCree’s jaw, right along his scratchy beard, and pulled back with a crooked smile. “Unfortunately, I suspect we should probably chaperone these...drunks. And make sure no one develops alcohol poisoning.”

McCree ran a thumb along Hanzo’s cheek, gazing at him fondly, a glimmer of something in his eyes Hanzo didn’t quite know how to process. 

“Guess we oughta rustle up some waters for everyone,” McCree said, his hand lingering on Hanzo’s jaw as he nodded. 

“And confiscate any remaining drinks.”

“Sounds good. But if Fareeha’s still got one and don’t wanna give it up? I ain’t fighten’ her for it. That’s all you.”

Hanzo nodded, solemnly. Fareeha seemed like a fierce fighter. “I will do what I must.”

Fortunately, they didn’t have to fight anyone for their drinks, and most of the drunks seemed either indifferent or grateful when McCree or Hanzo thrust water into their hands. Hanzo chuckled as McCree tried to wrangle Genji into taking the water, and wound up with the cyborg clinging to his leg, sliding limpy head first off the bed, babbling half incoherently about how much he loved his friends. 

When he and Genji reunited, Hanzo couldn’t shake the feeling that although Genji was still alive, he had still killed his brother. Killed the essence of who he was. He was so different now. But watching the scene unfold in front of him? No. The Genji he knew was definitely still alive and well. He couldn’t help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My love for reaper76 can not be contained. But I promise they won't have too many scenes. Maybe. Probably. We're here for the mchanzo after all  
> <3 to my readers and commenters!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: People with hangovers. You do the math...

Ana checked her GPS nervously. The trees streaked by in a blur of green as her hover bike sped down the road, kicking up a wave of leaves and debris in her wake. No movement from her agents in over twelve hours, and no responses. This wasn’t like her daughter _or_ Oxton. Something was wrong. It was supposed to just be a quiet get together with McCree, Genji, Fareeha, and Lena. It wasn't often all four were in the same corner of the globe together. Ana was happy to see them off. Those four had been thick as thieves back in Overwatch; it sounded like it would be a pleasant evening out in the country reminiscing and sipping wine. 

She kicked herself the whole way. Something must have happened. Letting McCree and Genji team up with Reaper and Jack was a mistake. Ana _knew_ they couldn’t be trusted. Anything Talon touched was compromised. She, of all people should know, after Amélie…

Most of all she was furious at Jack, if he had anything to do with this... At least McCree’s blind loyalty to Reyes made sense. Blackwatch, especially towards the end, had been a pretty tight knit, insular, and even paranoid bunch under Reyes’ command. Gabe was as close to family as Jesse had. But Jack? She spent months with him, hunting Reaper, and years of her life working with him before that. She trusted him. Sure, she knew he and Gabe were madly in love well before they realized it, but to have him betray her like that? Acting like he wanted to bring Reaper to justice all that time, only to spring him from prison as soon as they finally captured him? Most of all, he never give her even the faintest hint at what happened between them after she disappeared. He intentionally hid the truth from her. She had to wonder if he was using her all along. Surely Talon got to him too. 

And to top it all off, letting them team up with Hanzo? Hanzo “I Tried and Almost Succeeded in Killing My Very Capable Brother” Shimada? She couldn’t blame Genji for trying to reconcile with him. A little daft, naive, and optimistic? Maybe. But Genji had always been a sweet kid, it made sense. She couldn’t, however, share in Genji’s blind faith. Especially when evidence that Hanzo was a menace shown in her face like a flashing neon sign.

And she, Ana Amari, foolishly let her own daughter and three of her trusted agents affiliate with those criminals. Of course something terrible was going to happen. 

She cut the engine and slid her bike into the bushes as she approached their coordinates, and began a careful, stealth approach. The transponders were in a small cabin, as they had been from the beginning of the night yesterday. Ana hated trying to sneak in broad daylight like this, but time was of the essence if something happened. 

“Initiating feed, do you have visuals, Winston?” Ana whispered, activating her headset.

“Affirmative. That...seems like quite a few cars. Looks like they had company,” Winston’s voice came in through her headset. It was a lot of cars. Four cars and a vintage motorcycle, to be precise. Strange that they would all still be piled up in the driveway like this if there had been some sort of ambush. 

Ana crept to the door, surprised to find it unlocked. She pushed it open.. Her heart skipping a beat as she saw a great, red stain on the floor. She held her rifle at the ready.

As the door swung open further she spotted the couch, and her first missing agent. McCree lay sound asleep, his mouth partially agape with a slight trickle of drool running down his cheek. An unfamiliar man lay on top of him, his face buried in the cowboy’s brown flannel shirt. The knuckles of McCree’s mechanical arm rested against the ground, while his flesh hand cupped the strange man’s butt, even in his sleep. Ana’s shoulders sagged.

“Well. One agent accounted for?” Winston quipped in her ear. Ana’s anxiety settled a little. McCree was obviously fine, probably more than fine if you asked him. As she approached the stain she discovered it was too purple to be blood. Possibly wine

Ana shook her head, continuing her sweep of the cabin, her feet feather light as she approached the open bedroom door. She scowled at the scene inside. Her daughter lay asleep on the bed, curled up around a pillow she seemed determined to hug to death, with Lena laying against her thighs. Genji’s head hung off the bed, his legs thrown over Lena’s abdomen. His hot pink hair half done up in lumpy, uneven cornrows, while Fareeha sported some awkward braids. This had to be the work of Lena “Drunken Braider” Oxton.

A few glasses of water sat strategically placed around the room. One glass lay tipped over on the floor, its contents slowly seeping into the floorboards. It seemed at least someone made a valiant attempt to be responsible.

Winston giggled in her ear as she sighed, stepping away from the bedroom and walked to the kitchen. The counter sported a tremendous, empty punch bowl with a bit of red left in the bottom. No less than four empty bottles of wine, and several other empty liquor bottles sat lined up next to it.

“I think the situation is under control here, Amari out,” Ana sighed into her com. Winston stifled his giggles long enough to acknowledge her and she flipped off the feed. 

Blankets poked out from under the kitchen table. Ana stooped low, peering under the tablecloth to discover two unfamiliar women curled up in their own little blanket cocoon. The one with the purple streaked hair seemed familiar, perhaps from some classified file. But they were sleeping off their drinks just like the rest of the idiots so far.

A faint rumbling drifted from the final door, presumably the bathroom. A quiet snore?

The last scene to greet Ana drew a startled gasp from her lips. Jack sat fully clothed (fortunately) in the bathtub in a pool of what looked like black ichor. His head rested against the wall, his visor unpowered and crooked. Ana stared down at the black substance filling the tub. It seemed to move slightly of its own accord. Was it...breathing?

Now that she confirmed everyone was okay, discounting their hangovers, Ana was furious. 

“Jack!” Ana snapped. The gray haired man jerked awake. He glanced around frantically, and quickly fixed his visor, the orange light flickering back on. He squinted up at Ana, his alarm fading, replaced by a grimace. His hand fluttered to his forehead.

“Ana…?” he muttered, groggily.

Ana rested her rifle on her shoulder, hand on her hip as she stared down at the the sorry scene. “Good morning, Jack.”

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but instead winced, and let his head thump back against the wall with a pained grunt.

“Is that…” Ana asked, pointing to the black substance in the bathtub. Jack cracked his eyes back open and peered down, brows furrowing. He gingerly ran his fingers across the surface of the black stuff. Unlike a liquid, none of it stuck to him, though the whole pool did wiggle a little when he touched it.

“Gabe?” Jack said, sounding concerned. The bathtub seemed to groan. 

“Is...he okay?” Ana asked, tentatively leaning forward. She wanted to get a better look at the situation, but at the same time really did not want to get any closer.

“Your voices are like fingernails on the chalkboard of my soul,” an unearthly voice hissed from the bathtub.

Jack cracked a half smile, still absentmindedly stroking his fingers across the surface of. Well. Gabe. Apparently. “He’s fine,” he said. A pathetic moan that almost sounded human rose from the bathtub, followed by a hiss, that may have been intended as a shushing sound. 

Of all the horrors Ana prepared herself to encounter here, including ones involving Reaper, this was not one of them.

“If I’d known the way to capture you two was just to throw a wild party, I would have done it months ago,” Ana said, smiling crookedly despite everything. 

“Die…” the word drifted up from the bathtub, sounding halfhearted at best, a little nauseated at worst. Ana did not want to find out what an ill blob looked like.

“Hey, Ana! When’d you get here?” McCree yawned from behind her. 

“Voices. Loud,” the bathtub hissed as Ana turned. She smiled up at McCree. He looked a little greasy and rumpled from sleeping in his clothes, but less hungover than she expected. Certainly less hungover than Jack or Gabe.

“I just arrived. No one was answering their coms, I thought something happened,” Ana said, trying not to snap. McCree’s com was deactivated, since he was supposed to be off Overwatch’s radar. He was only supposed to activate it in an emergency, if their shaky truce with Reaper and Hanzo went south. Ana assumed something happened before he had a chance to signal Overwatch. This debacle wasn’t his fault.

A black tendril whipped out from the bathtub, slamming the door behind Ana. Though the old lock failed to catch, and the door creaked back open a few inches. Another frustrated hiss drifted from the bathtub. Ana shook her head.

“Why are we in the shower? Why is it always the shower?” Jack’s voice drifted from behind the door, along with an annoyed growl from Gabe. 

McCree chuckled. “I think things just got a little...boozier than we expected..”

“I can see that,” Ana said, gesturing to the collection of empty liquor bottles. “So much for a quiet evening of wine and reminiscing.” Ana looked McCree over with a critical eye, zeroing in on the obnoxious purple welt on his neck. Typical. 

As if on queue, McCree’s sleeping companion appeared behind him, groggy, disheveled, and scrubbing sleep from his eyes. His hair was a mess, tangled and falling over his face, maybe half of it still trapped in some semblance of a ponytail. He wore a tight black shirt that had slid up in his sleep, revealing a strip of his muscled abdomen above his low slung black cargo pants. He blinked, startled when he spotted Ana, and quickly tried to arrange himself. He straightened his posture, tugged down his shirt, vainly tried to push his hair out of his face. He cleared his throat.

“Oh. Hello.”

Ana caught McCree eyeing him with a look of unbridled thirst. Again. Typical.

“Ana, this is Hanzo. Hanzo, Ana. She taught me everything I know ‘bout shootin’ back in the day,” McCree said with a grin. Hanzo offered Ana a quick, polite bow.

“It is an honor to meet you.”

Ana narrowed her eyes at the man, and again at the mark on McCree’s neck. “You’re Genji’s brother?”

“Ah, yes…” Hanzo said, a little haltingly, drawing himself up in an attempt to look as dignified as possible, despite his disheveled state. His face was a carefully practiced unreadable mask. Ana leveled her most judgmental, motherly glare at McCree. Really? He hooked up with Hanzo “I Tried to Murder Your Best Friend and My Brother” Shimada?

McCree was, as usual, completely impervious to her glare, while Hanzo seemed to wither just the slightest bit. He excused himself politely, stepping around them to the bathroom. 

Hanzo pushed open the door and froze. The scene inside hadn’t changed much, spare Jack sitting upright, apparently trying to coax Gabe back into some sort of solid form.

“Uh...I was hoping to use the facilities,” Hanzo said hesitantly.

“Go piss out the window,” Gabe hissed. Hanzo didn’t dignify the outburst with a response, while Jack gently patted Gabe’s quivering form.

“We really should get out, everyone’s going to need to use the restroom,” Jack said, ever the voice of reason. 

Finally, Gabe reluctantly, and quite literally pulled himself together. The blob surged and started to rise, wisps of the black smoke Ana was more accustomed to seeing flickering and swirling around as he took shape. The two staggered out of the bathroom together, Jack motioning for Hanzo to head inside while Gabe just glared at everything and shuffled into the kitchen. 

Ana tried not to grimace. She would never get used to seeing that gray, dead looking skin or his eerie black eyes. At the moment almost his entire right cheek was missing, revealing most of his teeth, making him look even more like a zombie than usual. It was almost easier dealing with him when he wore that stupid mask. Seeing this mangled shadow of her dear friend was...unsettling.

Gabe made his way to the sink, stuck his head under the tap, and started drinking directly from the faucet. After a few moments he pulled back, coughing and slapping a hand over his mouth, water and something black spraying from between his fingers. He hunched over the sink, his free hand gripping the counter, while Jack stood next to him, running a soothing hand across his back, really not looking any better himself. Ana winced; things were not going to be pretty as everyone woke up.

“Aren’t you both too old for this nonsense?” Ana chastised as Jack rinsed out a discarded glass and got himself water. 

“Yes,” they groaned in unison. 

With those two...preoccupied, Ana turned her attention back to McCree. He stood there, arms folded, with a smug look on his face. Ana glanced at the bathroom, to make sure Hanzo was out of sight, and punched McCree in the shoulder.

“What are you thinking!” Ana hissed, urgently, but quiet enough not to be overheard through the door.

“Hey! Ow! That actually hurt!” McCree jumped back, rubbing his shoulder.

“I let you go on this ill conceived mission, leave you alone for thirty seconds, and you _sleep with Hanzo Shimada?_ ” Ana punched McCree again, only this time the cowboy managed to dodge. Barely.

“Hey now, I ain’t slept with him yet, I mean. Not like what you have in mind. Just…ya know...” McCree trailed off, absentmindedly making a jerking off gesture. Ana punched him again. “Goddamn-! Same spot! Ow!”

“Jesse! _I did not need to know that!_ ”

“Well you’re the one goin’ on yellin’ at me for sleepin’ around-”

“You missed my point entirely! It’s not the sleeping it’s the _who!_ ”

“Hey, Hanzo’s a good guy-”

“A good guy? How many synthetic organs does Genji have again?”

McCree sighed. “Genji’s forgiven that. ‘Sides, I figured you’d be more concerned with your arch nemesis pukin’ in a kitchen sink right behind you.”

“He’s not my arch nemesis,” Ana grumbled, folding her arms.

“I only threw up once. I’m getting water,” Gabe defended, stooped over the sink.

“Still?”

“Do you know how hard it is to drink normally with this much of your mouth missing?” Gabe snapped, turning far enough to show off his row of exposed teeth. McCree cringed.

“Point taken-” Jesse sidetracked himself as the bathroom door opened, and Hanzo re-emerged, looking somewhat more awake and put together than he did before. He must have even combed out his hair with his fingers or something. Jesse sidled up next to him, and smoothly slid an arm around his waist. Hanzo, just as smoothly, dodged his way out of McCree’s grip, looking stone faced, like the cold blooded killer Ana knew he was. Jesse’s shoulder sagged in disappointment. Ana narrowed her eyes at the exchange. 

Suddenly there was a loud thump. The kitchen table jumped a good half inch. 

“ _Damnit!_ ” one of the women underneath swore. 

“A-are you okay…” the second woman, with an Indian accent, asked.

There was a long suffering groan, “I don’t know if my head hurts from the alcohol or just from this _damn table_.” 

A few moments later, the woman with half her head shaved crawled out from under the table, rubbing her forehead and glaring at the world. She cracked a smile when she spotted Ana, even if her teeth were still gritted against the pain.

“Hey, Ms. Amari Senior, nice of you to join us! Too bad you missed out on most of the festivities,” she said, as she got to her feet. Her sleeping companion crawled out from under the table a few moments later, looking bedraggled and confused.

Ana put her hand on her hip, eyeing the woman. “And you are?”

She smiled. “A friend of Gabe’s.”

“I’m Satya,” the second woman offered with a stiff wave.

Ana wanted to press further, but instead dropped her hand with a sigh. It was obviously pointless. 

Lena was the next to wake up, giving Ana a quick, if surprised greeting before hurrying off to the bathroom. Maybe a minute later Fareeha came flying out of the bedroom, and slammed the bathroom door open, much to Lena’s dismay.

“ACK! Occupied!” Lena screeched, pulling her shirt over her lap as she sat in her compromised position on the toilet. Fareeha changed course slightly, and promptly began emptying her stomach contents into the sink.

McCree, helpfully, shut the door for them, chuckling. He was clearly enjoying this mess a little too much. Ana ran a hand down her face with another exhausted sigh. And here she thought her daughter was the responsible, professional one of the group. 

That disaster contained for the moment, McCree sidled up to the refrigerator and peered inside. ”Damn, no wonder things went so sideways. No food in here.”

“No, it went sideways because someone must have spiked the sangria…” Genji moaned, finally drifting into the kitchen, rubbing his face. He offered Ana a halfhearted wave in greeting.

“Who woulda spiked the punch?” McCree asked. Three hands hesitantly went up, Gabe, Sombra, and to apparently everyone’s surprise, Satya.

“I added a bunch of vodka,” Gabe admitted.

“Tequila here,” Sombra said. Everyone leveled their gazes at Satya, she shrank under their looks.

“When I tasted the...drink. Ah, it was disgusting. I added a few ingredients to balance out the flavors. More fruits, and flavored syrup.”

“That isn’t spiking the punch, _Nena,_ ” Sombra said with a warm smile despite the pained grimace plastered on her face since she woke up.

“Some of what I used contained more alcohol,” Satya sighed.

“So. What was supposed to be some nice, fruity wine drink ended up being a mixed drink from hell that could strip paint off a car and no one noticed,” Genji grumbled.

“Genji. I saw how much booze you put in there. Fruity wine drink my ass,” McCree laughed. 

“...Fruity wine drink with a kick?”

“I think the real answer is, you are all idiots, and should have cut yourselves off much sooner than you did,” Ana scolded. 

“Well, either way, we oughta get some food, or all y’all’s hangovers are gonna last forever. Hanzo and I can go hit up the market. Ain’t that right?” McCree offered. Hanzo looked up from his position lurking silently in the corner, startled.

“What…”

“We can take your motorcycle in. Rustle up some grub.”

“I-I do not have a second helmet,” Hanzo protested. Ana grinned. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. The great, haughty, infamous Hanzo, trying to squirm out of shopping with his new boyfriend, or whatever he and McCree were. Maybe it was some sort of one night stand, if it was this would most certainly serve him right.

“Oh, you can borrow my helmet. I should get my bike out of the woods anyway,” Ana offered with a broad grin.

“See! C’mon Hanzo,” McCree said, his tone making it sound like the matter was fully decided. Hanzo sighed.

“At least let me change my clothes first…” Hanzo stipulated, heading into the bedroom. He peeked his head out the door after a few moments, pointing at McCree. “And you are riding bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Thank you to all who left comments. I feed on your support.  
> -Yay for inside jokes only people who read part 1 will understand \o/ I amuse me more than anyone else  
> -Expect more McHanzo cuteness next time. Once the horrifying stress vortex from hell I'm entering releases me long enough to breathe. w-wwoooo....


	8. Chapter 8

“Yain’t gonna get all weird on me now, are you?” McCree asked. He made a show of examining Ana’s motorcycle helmet and tucking it under his arm in an attempt to look casual.

Hanzo pressed his lips into a thin line, eyeing the cowboy. Hanzo stood, straddling the motorcycle, back in that riding gear which suited him oh so well. Then again, Hanzo would look good in a burlap sack.

“...’Yain’t’?” The corners of his lips twitched, fighting back a smile. Though the traitorous grin crept to his eyes despite his best efforts.

“C’mon Hanzo, I’m bein’ serious here…”

“I’m not sure what you mean by ‘weird’.” Hanzo toyed with his own helmet. McCree half expected him to shove it on his head to avoid the conversation. The fact that he hadn’t yet seemed to be a good sign. 

“I just… this wasn’t some kinda one night stand thing to you? It didn’t seem like-”

“Of course not, don’t be absurd. If I wanted _that_ I would not have selected my brother’s friend or trapped myself with you in some cabin in the middle of backwater India, or agreed to this ridiculous shopping expedition. What possibly gave you that idea?”

“You kinda shied away when I tried to touch you…”

Hanzo’s face fell. He cleared his throat. “Oh. I am simply...uncomfortable with public displays.” 

McCree smiled. “Ah, I shoulda guessed. Sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“It is fine,” Hanzo said stiffly, finally shoving the helmet on his head. “Get on.”

McCree didn’t need to be told twice. He put on his helmet and climbed behind Hanzo, sliding up against his back. He started to wrap his hands around Hanzo’s waist when he hesitated. Wait. Would this count as a public display? 

Hanzo glanced over his shoulder, sensing McCree’s hesitation. “Hold on tight,” he warned, a strange, mischievous edge to his voice McCree didn’t quite understand until the motorcycle roared to life, and the two went speeding out of the driveway, launching a wave of gravel and dirt in their wake. McCree let out a startled yelp, latching on to Hanzo like a particularly excitable octopus. 

McCree was more than happy to cling greedily to Hanzo as they sped down the road at a blinding pace. Once he got more comfortable with the speed, and they hit the smoother road, McCree couldn’t help but let his hands begin to roam as he pressed himself up against Hanzo’s back. It was a shame the riding gear was so thick, he wanted to feel more of Hanzo’s exquisitely chiseled muscles...even if he had spent all night pressed up against him.

He felt Hanzo’s chuckle rumbling in his chest more than he heard it, as McCree’s good hand roamed across his stomach and started sliding up. Hanzo tipped his head back, tapping his helmet against McCree’s, probably a sign to knock it off. 

Yes, there was no doubt he was smitten. 

While the cabin felt like it was in the middle of nowhere, but really they were only a few kilometers from the nearest city. They rolled up to the edge of town soon enough. McCree reluctantly let Hanzo slide from his grasp, only to have the disappointment of the loss of his back pressed against his chest assuaged as Hanzo pulled his helmet off. Once again there was something dramatic about the reveal, the way his stray strands of hair fell about his face. How he ran his fingers across his scalp, putting his already perfect hair back in order.

“God, I love it when you do that,” McCree said, watching Hanzo with a smile.

Hanzo raised a brow, smoothing his hair. “Do what?”

“Y’know. The thing. With the helmet.”

Hanzo set the helmet on the bike, still eyeing McCree skeptically. “Removing it?”

“Yeah, but...with the hair…”

“You enjoy helmet hair.” Hanzo worked to bite back a grin, giving McCree a dead serious look despite the twinkle in his eyes as he combed his hair back, securing it in a ponytail with an elastic. McCree felt a slight twinge of guilt, remembering suddenly he had been unable to remove the blood stain from the golden ribbon Hanzo used to bind his wound. Not that he would be wearing it now anyway. They were far too close to the remaining Shimada stragglers to be anything but inconspicuous. McCree even forwent the cowboy hat and serape. For now.

“See, now you’re just bein’ impossible.” McCree huffed, hands on his hips.

“Maybe so. But we should make haste. The hungover idiots need their breakfast,” Hanzo said, starting off towards the center of town. McCree trailed behind, greedily taking in the sight of Hanzo walking away. How _dare_ someone be that damn attractive. Bordered on inconsiderate. 

McCree had seen more than a few cities like this one. Some brigade of Omnics clearly passed through at some point, leaving a path of destruction. But the city wasn’t a target, so much of the infrastructure remained intact. Stray buildings stood proud and pristine, spare maybe a few bullet holes, next to piles of rubble. 

Refugee camps were overflowing during the crisis, so people stayed put when they could. And now, even all these years later, there was so much work to be done, so many buildings to repair, that most of the damage still remained. This city, however, stood out in a way McCree hadn’t seen before. 

A six story office building stood proud in the center of town, surrounded by rubble. Somewhere along the line, the building had been repurposed into apartments. Happy, herb filled planter boxes decorated every window, with cheerful batik curtains livening up the otherwise drab building, even from the outside. 

The surrounding rubble, however, was far from uninhabited. Great chunks of concrete and wood were stacked and arranged into makeshift open air store fronts. Twisted rebar jutted out into the street, now displaying merchandise: bright strings of dried peppers, and bags of fruit. One of the storefronts was even a meticulously laid brickwork made of broken chunks of concrete. The rubble stood proudly as an eclectic, reconfigured town square. It was artistic in its own way. Truly, the people here had made the best of a bad situation. While there was new construction towards the edges of town, the city center remained something of a monument to the population’s post crisis ingenuity.

“So, what should we bring the drunks,” McCree asked, finally catching up to Hanzo. The other man hummed.

“I assumed you had an idea, as this adventure was your suggestion,” Hanzo said absentmindedly, gazing around the market, looking lost.

McCree hooked his thumbs in his belt. He hesitated when they came to a stall brimming with produce, including a glorious stack of potatoes. There was the first item on his list. 

“I got a few. But what do you usually do for breakfast? Wouldn’t be bad to have some variety,” Hanzo schooled his face into a perfect mask of neutrality at the question, though McCree could have sworn he saw a flash of embarrassment.

“...Tea?” Hanzo finally offered, a little meekly by his standards. Which of course meant he only stated it instead of barked it.

“You don’t eat breakfast?”

Hanzo sighed. “It depends on the circumstances. I do not tend to be picky…” He said, grumbling “anymore” under his breath so faintly McCree almost didn’t catch it. He probably wasn’t supposed to.

McCree started loading up on potatoes as Hanzo eyed the produce with a look of trepidation. McCree shook his head with a chuckle, scanning around the bazaar. A flicker of motion caught his eye. A nearby booth contained fabric and clothes instead of food. A row of colorful silk scarves fluttered in the breeze, including a striking gold and blue one that caught his eye. He immediately formed an idea.

“Hey Hanzo. Folks are probably ‘bout fit to die back at the fort. We oughta make this quick. Might be best if we split up. Wanna grab some, I dunno, muffins ‘n coffee or somethin’?”

Hanzo seemed momentarily startled, glancing up from glaring at a pile of eggplants. McCree almost had to wonder if an eggplant slighted him in some way in the past. He nodded sharply. “Very well.”

“Meet back at the bike in ten?”

Hanzo nodded in agreement again before marching off on his mission. McCree shook his head, watching him go. He still didn’t have that guy figured out, not by a long shot. But it promised to be fun while it lasted. 

McCree hurriedly purchased his potatoes, a few tomatoes, and spring onions, then made his way to the scarf. The material was soft and fine. It looked to be hand dyed a rich deep gold, with blue swirling around delicately, the edges of the design only barely bleeding together into a green reminiscent of old copper. It was beautiful. Perhaps a little wider than the one McCree stained, and lacking the elegant wave pattern, but it had its own unique charm. McCree hastily purchased the scarf and tucked it away inside his jacket before he gathered up his remaining groceries.

Loaded up with fruit, yogurt, eggs, some sort of vegan sausage, and far more coconut oil than any rational person needed, McCree hurried back to the motorcycle. He didn’t want to keep Hanzo waiting. Hanzo’s shopping list was small, after all, while McCree’s kept growing every time he laid eyes on something new. He wasn’t going to just make everyone breakfast. They were getting a hangover feast.

To his surprise, even with the diversions McCree beat Hanzo back to the bike. He even had time to unload his groceries, tucking them away neatly in the motorcycle bags. When Hanzo finally appeared, he looked even more disgruntled than he had before, though his arms were loaded with coffee, tea, and a paper bag which was already bleeding grease through the bottom. McCree smiled cheerfully, trying to counteract the man’s less than sunny mood. 

“Howdy! What’d you end up gettin?”

“I am uncertain.” Hanzo thrust the greasy paper bag into McCree’s arms, and began stuffing the coffee and tea into the motorcycle bags. “The merchant was less than cooperative with my attempts to use the translation app, and was in no hurry.”

McCree cracked open the bag, peering inside. There was a mound of some sort of sweet looking confection. The little disks of spongy cake had a pool of jam in the center, and were covered in fresh coconut shavings. The aroma of coconut and caramelized sugar greeted him. Well, whatever they were they looked and smelled tasty. “Were you scowlin’ at ‘em the whole time?” McCree asked. Hanzo peered up from zipping the bag shut to level a glare at him. “Yeah. Like that.”

Hanzo hesitated. “No.”

“You know, for bein’ from some big ‘ole crime family, you ‘n Genji are pretty shitty liars.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes, grabbing his motorcycle helmet. “We should go-”

“Wait! Wait, I almost forgot!” McCree slapped his hand down on the helmet as Hanzo moved to put it on. The other man blinked at him, tilting his head. 

“What could possibly-”

“I got you somethin’,” McCree grinned, reaching into his jacket and pulling out the silk scarf. Hanzo’s icy glare melted away as his eyes settled on the proffered gift. “On accounta I got your old one all bloody. Couldn’t get the stain out. It ain’t quite the right shape but-”

“It is beautiful,” Hanzo interrupted, taking the scarf with a look of awe. He ran the smooth material through his fingers, unfolding it, studying it admiringly. “Thank you. You...You did not have to...You did not owe-”

“Nah, I wanted to! Saw it ‘n how could I resist?” McCree said, hooking his thumbs in his belt and rocking back on his heels, grinning. He wasn’t sure what Hanzo’s reaction to the gift would be, but this was surprising. He handled the scarf like McCree just gave him a string of priceless diamonds.

Hanzo huffed out the faintest laugh. “You had us split up so you could purchase this.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Hanzo took a breath, seemingly to steady himself, before winding the scarf around his neck. He tucked the ends safely into his jacket, before finally looking back to McCree with the softest smile he’d seen on the man’s face yet. McCree was almost surprised it was possible. “Thank you.”

That smile was more of a gift than any scarf. Then when Hanzo rose on his toes, giving McCree a quick, gentle kiss, he felt downright giddy. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Sorry it's short, but I liked it how it was. Besides, I always intended for these chapters to be short.  
> -I have partially emerged from the stress vortex. Though I cannot guarantee frequent updates, I can at least start dedicating brainspace to this again.  
> - ~~Hanzo only eats bachelor chow~~  
>  -Thank you to my readers and commenters. Yall rock.


	9. Chapter 9

Everything Hanzo did was done with power and precision. The way he drew his bow, the way he could scale a vertical wall, even the way he simply walked or surveyed a room. He moved with the grace and strength of a leopard. Every motion calculated and exacting. Watching him in the field was like watching art made flesh. A picture of perfection and poise.

Which made it baffling how the man could be so completely inept with a spatula. 

“Darlin’ why don’t you ah...cut up the fruit?” McCree said, gently easing the utensil from Hanzo’s grip before he jammed it in someone’s eye socket. Hanzo huffed.

“Very well.” Hanzo surrendered only a little reluctantly, as McCree eased back in front of the stove top. Well, it looked like instead of omelettes they were going to have scrambled eggs...scrambled eggs with vegetables in them, but they’d surely taste good regardless. 

At least a knife should be something Hanzo knew his way around. McCree saw the deadly assassin handle a blade with the expertise and finesse he seemed to display with everything else. 

McCree scraped up the stuck bits of egg and tended to his enormous sizzling pile of hash browns before he glanced over his shoulder to check Hanzo’s progress. While he could apply a blade with deadly precision to a human, the mango appeared to be a wily opponent. The now peeled fruit slipped through Hanzo’s fingers as he tried to slice it. After a few frustrated attempts to cut chunks of flesh from the pit, Hanzo finally just stabbed the entire thing with a fork. The tines dug into the pit, holding the fruit roughly in place while he sawed bits off like he was carving up an especially tiny roast, squishing a vast puddle of juice out onto the cutting board. McCree choked back a laugh, and returned to his hissing pans, leaving Hanzo to his misery. 

Soon enough, despite Hanzo’s struggles, the first plates of food were ready to be served. Hanzo distributed them to the slightly perkier recovering drunks around the kitchen table, consisting of Lena, Satya, Sombra and Genji. The women all muttered their thanks with greater or lesser degrees of enthusiasm, while Genji grinned up at Hanzo.

“What, my brother serving me breakfast?” he said as he took the plate.

Hanzo frowned down at Genji. He folded his arms as he drew himself up in an almost convincing show of indignation. “Do not pretend this is the first time I’ve fed breakfast to your hungover ass.”

“Yeah, but it is probably the first time it wasn’t accompanied by cold water to the face.”

Hanzo hesitated, narrowing his eyes. “Perhaps…”

“This looks delicious by the way, McCree.” Genji chuckled.

McCree grinned over his shoulder with a wink and a salute. “Grease ‘n salt. The best hangover cure there is.”

“That smells so good…” Fareeha’s groggy voice drifted up from under the table. McCree stepped away from his pans long enough to peer under the table. Fareeha made herself at home in Sombra and Satya’s abandoned blanket fort. Her hair was pulled back into the messiest ponytail possible, her skin waxy, eyes bloodshot, and laying on her side clutched the largest glass of water the cabin could supply. But at least she wasn’t throwing up anymore.

“Y’okay down there?”

“I think I’m still drunk…Remind me to never drink again,” Fareeha groaned. 

McCree chuckled. “Time catches up with us all. Think you can stomach some food?”

Fareeha rubbed her face. “Hash browns?” she asked, her voice pathetic and pleading.

He grinned. “Comin’ right up.”

Lena shook her head, smiling sympathetically at Fareeha’s plight. She turned back to Genji, swallowing down a huge mouthful of sausage. “So Genji. Did Hanzo dump water on you often?”

“Yeah! One time he dumped a bowl of rice and egg on me!”

Hanzo nodded solemnly. “It was effective at getting you out of bed.”

“It was really hot! And got everywhere!” 

“You were unharmed.”

Genji rolled his eyes. “I had egg yolk in my _ear_. I had to shower for like a week to get everything out of my hair!”

Hanzo nodded again, his face serious. “Yes. They made me wash the sheets by hand as punishment for my rash actions. The stain never did come out fully. Father was extremely disappointed.” A wry smirk twisted its way across his lips. “But it was worth it.”

“That’s one way to have breakfast in bed,” Sombra snorted.

McCree smiled. That was possibly the longest exchange he’d seen Hanzo and Genji have that wasn’t work related. Talking about each other and their history, no less. And Hanzo didn’t even look like he wanted to crawl under a rock and die. Perhaps things were slowly improving between them. It was nice to think of them being brothers. Normal brothers. Assholes to each other? Perhaps. But no worse than regular siblings. 

Life seemed to slowly seep its way back into everyone as they ate and drank (and took a few analgesics.) The tone drifted from half asleep misery to cheerful banter. Genji and Fareeha seemed to have worked through...whatever drama they were having last night. And even Ana forgave them all for being drunk idiots once she had some tea and a nice warm plate of food. Her glares at Hanzo even softened once she learned he and McCree were the sole parties who attempted to be responsible. And while Hanzo’s attempts at cooking were less than successful, it was the thought that counted. 

Jack and Gabe seemed magnetically pulled into each other’s personal space even more so than usual. Jack usually seemed hesitant to publicly display affection. No doubt after their highly secretive relationship, it was difficult to let go of the reflex to hide. But McCree even caught Jack steal a kiss from the intact corner of Gabe’s mouth when he thought no one was looking. It always stuck McCree as a little remarkable just how indifferent Jack seemed to be about his lover’s constantly decaying state. He supposed love was a pretty powerful drug. Either way it was adorable.

Eventually their guests all departed to take care of their various businesses, leaving Hanzo, McCree, Genji, Jack and Gabe with no excuse but to address the reason they were all in the country. 

As far as they could tell from their intelligence, a remaining member of the Shimada clan, one of Hanzo and Genji’s uncles, had managed to consolidate some of the clan’s last scraps of power. He was managing his criminal enterprises from a hideout in a nearby town. The plan was to surveil the site, map out the comings and goings of the man and his affiliates, find out what they were doing, their weaknesses, and a way to take him down. 

They were under no particular time restraints, from what they could tell the man had been holed up there for months, possibly years, probably trafficking in arms or narcotics. And he did occasionally send out assassins to try and take down Hanzo and Genji. So they reallyl needed to get started with their surveillance.

They decided Gabe, Jack, and Genji would go scout out the location first, find a place to set up their stakeout (enough of Gabe’s cheek had fortunately regenerated by the time they left, that he could hide the remaining hole under a surgical mask.) They would leave the cabin as their home base, where they could sleep and store their equipment. The cabin was reasonably secure and hidden. Even spy drones would have a hard time tracking them through the thick cover of trees. 

Genji was also tasked with loading up their car with food and provisions, while Hanzo and McCree stayed behind to watch after the cabin. Genji gave McCree the most mischievous grin, and an obnoxious wink when he promised to be back in time for dinner, but no sooner.

Before they knew it, McCree and Hanzo found themselves alone. Except for the company of a massive pile of dishes. 

McCree sighed at the mess, reclining on the couch instead of dealing with it, at least for the moment. 

“D’you think this was their plan all along? Stickin’ us with the dishes?”

“I would not be surprised…” Hanzo said with a huff, sitting down next to McCree, though, distinctly not touching. McCree extended an arm, inviting Hanzo over. The man sighed and leaned against his side. McCree smiled, wrapping his arm around Hanzo’s shoulders. They fit so nicely together. It was surprising how natural it felt, even after such a short time. 

“I never asked you. Do you prefer Jesse or McCree?” Hanzo asked suddenly. He shrugged.

“Either. I wouldn’ta picked ‘em if I didn’t like both.” McCree grinned, giving Hanzo’s shoulder a squeeze. Hanzo grunted in acknowledgement. McCree expected the inevitable follow up question about his real name, but it didn’t come. McCree was surprised at how pleased he was that Hanzo didn’t ask. People always asked, and then he had to weasel his way out of telling them, making them think he didn’t trust them. But Hanzo seemed to understand, or felt it was none of his business.

After a long, comfortable silence, Hanzo finally spoke again, his tone serious. “I must ask you a question.” McCree tensed a little. He glanced down at the man, who stared straight ahead, brow furrowed.

“Yeah? Shoot.”

Hanzo paused for a moment longer. “...Was everyone in Overwatch gay?”

McCree stared dumbfounded, before barking out a laugh. “Beg your pardon?”

Hanzo began ticking off on his fingers. “You, Morrison, Reyes, Lena, my brother’s bisexual so gay enough, that doctor woman, Mei…”

McCree continued to chuckle, shaking his head. “I mean, don’t think Ana is? I know she had at least one man in her life. Never heard ‘bout any women, not to say it couldn’ta happened. Hm, guess I never asked Winston…”

“The ape?”

“Yeah.”

Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose, bumping his piercing. “Thank you. For putting that image in my head.”

“Rein’s always been pretty flirty with Ana. Only ever seen ‘im eyein’ the ladies. But he also likes wearin’ a nice evenin’ gown sometimes?”

“Rein...Reinhardt the giant crusader?”

“That’s him. Oh. N’ Torb’s got like. A thousand kids. Don’t remember him ever havin’ a fella either.”

“The… short engineer?”

“Yep.”

Hanzo pressed his lips into a thin line. “A thousand.”

“You should see his wife.” McCree let out a low whistle. “Woman might as well be a supermodel.”

“I deeply regret asking this question.”

McCree laughed. “Y’know? I was the only one who knew ‘bout Reyes and Morrison before they. Uh. Died.”

Hanzo blinked up at him, brow raised. “Really…”

“Yeah. Caught ‘em sexy wrestlin’. Was pretty gross.”

“Gross?” Hanzo asked, skeptical. 

“I mean. Sure they’re good lookin’ guys but...Gabe was pretty much my dad at that point? So…”

Hanzo grunted. “Understandable. It sounds like you were all quite close.”

McCree chuckled. “Yeah, some’a us at least. Like a big...weird...dysfunctional family. ‘Till shit started falling apart. Started rottin’ from the inside. Drove Gabe a lil’ nuts. Okay...more than a lil’. Think he ‘n Jack might be the only ones who really know what happened at this point. Pretty sure they’ve been goin’ around murderin’ the folks who were responsible for it, but ‘m not positive.”

“Hm, then why are they helping Genji and myself?”

McCree shrugged. “Who knows…”

The two again lapsed into an amiable silence, before they finally resigned themselves to doing the dishes. As if to make up for McCree doing most of the cooking, Hanzo took the lead on the dishes, practically muscling McCree out of the way of the sink.

McCree watched Hanzo work, scrubbing down the dishes with mechanical precision. He may not have known his way around a spatula, but he certainly knew his way around a sponge. McCree bumped him with his hip, grinning. 

“You’re pretty handy with that sponge. Even if you can’t cook a lick,” McCree teased. 

Hanzo hummed an agreement, handing McCree another sparkling clean plate to dry. “The staff did all of the cooking. However our parents thought it was prudent to have us clean occasionally, to pretend we weren’t as spoiled as we were. It was also occasionally implemented as a punishment for certain transgressions,” Hanzo said. His tone started light enough, but by the end a certain hollow look drifted into his eyes, and McCree knew not to press. He suspected Hanzo had washed more than a few dishes. Considering how rowdy Genji was, he wondered why he never heard of anything like that from him. Genji did clean, and wasn’t an utter slob, but he was occasionally a little useless at it.

“Then, how ‘bout in the future I cook, you wash up?” McCree offered, changing the subject.

Hanzo nodded. “An excellent suggestion.” Hanzo hesitated, mulling an idea over for a long while. McCree was about ready to demand he spit it out when he finally did. “Do you know how to cook eggplant?”

“Eh? Kinda? Done it a few times. Not my favorite.”

Hanzo hummed. “There was a dish I was very fond of that our cooks used to make. I attempted it on my own once after...everything. It tasted like I was chewing a dirty sponge.”

McCree laughed. “Yeah, eggplant can do that. If you got the recipe I can take a whack at it. Don’t make any promises though.”

Hanzo handed McCree the last plate to dry, and rinsed off his hands. “I would...appreciate that.”

McCree spent far too long drying that last plate, watching Hanzo as he rinsed out the sink with excruciating thoroughness, his expression a thousand miles away. He probably didn’t even realize all the suds disappeared long ago. Again McCree wished he could figure out what was going on inside that head. Why a did light hearted conversation about cooking would seem to leave him in a distant, melancholy fog. Or was it melancholy? 

Finally realizing the sink was clean, and that McCree was staring at him, Hanzo turned. There was a new glint in his eyes, that certainly wasn’t melancholy. He took the plate out of McCree’s hands and set it aside. His heart skipped a beat as Hanzo laced his fingers through McCree’s hair. Hanzo pulled him down as he rose on his toes, their lips meeting in the middle. McCree melted into the embrace, sliding his hands around Hanzo, pulling them together. 

Whatever it was, it was gone now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -The next chapter will probably be a little more delayed, as my weekly writing time was spent in the hospital instead of writing (I'm fine. Just bitter...)  
> -This chapter officially contained my favorite typo of all time: Trubbed. What the hell was I trying to type? Who knows. Hopefully I caught...most of the bullshit.  
> -Also <3 to my readers!


	10. Chapter 10

Who knew a dull few weeks of surveillance could be so pleasant. It didn’t take them long to find a good place for their stake out: A tiny, inexplicably hot, shitty rat-hole of an apartment overlooked the criminal stronghold. Once they found the spot they set up a stakeout rotation, making sure two sets of eyes would be on the warehouse at all times. They needed to confirm what activity was going on in there, feel out guard rotation, shipment schedules, and find a good time to strike. Unfortunately the paranoid remaining Shimada had enough tech and jammers to make remote surveillance impossible. 

The watch rotation wound up being a little off the cuff, and really dependent on who wanted to sleep back at the cabin. There were after all only two beds; if three people wanted to sleep and no one wanted to share, it was a bit of a problem. This of course meant McCree got plenty of free time with Hanzo. Unfortunately, however their true alone time was fairly limited. Some third party was almost always at the cabin, or liable to appear at any moment. 

It forced them to take things slow. At least for now. While they both obviously would rather be spending their time naked in bed, their situation was oddly pleasant. McCree’s dating history since leaving Overwatch, and even largely before it, generally consisted of one or two dates, or a one night stand with a repeat performance if he was lucky. Being a fugitive meant he never spent much time in the same place, and was unwilling to get attached. He suspected Hanzo was in the same boat.

While it was too soon to say if McCree was really getting _attached_ , he was at least enjoying himself.

Hanzo was drop dead gorgeous. But he was also quiet, serious, and reserved. Not really the kind of person McCree ever imagined himself being with. He usually went for gregarious types. In fact, everyone was a little surprised he and Genji never hooked up. But McCree wasn’t exactly Genji’s type, and once McCree got to know Genji, he wasn’t interested either. McCree didn’t necessarily go for the life of the party, but usually someone who’d at least try to drag him on the dance floor. Someone who’d reflect his bullshit back at him, and pile on a bit of their own. His past partners who stuck around for any sort of time were all spunky, lively and playful. 

Not to say Hanzo wasn’t playful. He wasn’t sure how else to characterize his stunt with the bike. Or how he would tease McCree for being such a thirsty mess with his feigned obliviousness. 

Something about how somber Hanzo was just made those moments stand out all the more. He cherished them. Those and the rare, heartfelt smiles which brought a sparkle to Hanzo’s dark eyes. The occasional quiet rumble of a laugh, building deep in his chest, warm and rich. Like each one was a little gift just for Jesse and no one else.

He was a hell of a kisser too.

How infuriatingly mysterious Hanzo could be was less of an asset, however. Sometimes it felt like talking to a stone wall. McCree could understand Genji’s frustration with him. Sure, McCree didn’t expect him to be an open book, but sometimes he could be evasive about the strangest things. McCree never knew when the topic would steer off somewhere that would just make him shut down entirely.

And the whole brother murder thing was not great. Forgiveness and reconciliation aside.

Who knew when he would hear Hanzo’s side of that sordid affair.

Maybe the fact that they couldn't just spend their time in bed was drawing things out. Maybe once they got past the smoldering lust underneath it all they would just get bored with each other.

McCree felt a pang of sadness at the thought. There was no use worrying about it. He was enjoying himself now, that’s all that mattered. Something about Hanzo just seemed to draw him in, while at the same time making him almost antsy and nervous. 

After he mentioned the eggplant dish McCree, of course, took it upon himself to try and make it the first chance he got. He made enough for three, since Jack was around too. But the old soldier took his food, thanked him, and made himself scarce. It seemed he didn’t want to intrude on McCree’s date night. Though who knows where he went with his plate of food. McCree could only assume he wound up eating in the woods somewhere. He and Gabe were perfectly suited for each other; they were both enigmatic weirdos in their old age.

Hanzo arrived just as McCree was plating up. The cabin smelled like miso, sesame oil and rice... and maybe a little bit of scorched eggplant. It was McCree’s first time taking a whack at the recipe after all. He only burnt the skins a little. Hanzo just stared in wide eyed amazement while McCree apologized for the char. As Hanzo’s stunned silence continued, McCree eventually just shoved a bowl into his hands, mounded with rice and topped with the only very slightly burnt eggplants.

“Bon appetit darlin’,” McCree said, holding out a pair of chopsticks.

Hanzo finally fought past his speechlessness. “I...you. You made it.”

“‘Course! Gotta eat, sounded like it’d be nice. Hope it turned out okay. Eggplants can be wily…”

The shock started to fade from Hanzo’s face, drifting again into an unreadable mask. He took the chopsticks and poked around at the rice, staring down at the steaming bowl. The silence dragged on for so long, McCree started to feel nervous, until Hanzo looked up at him with that smile. The warmest look of gratitude. McCree could have sworn he saw the faint glimmer of tears threatening in his eyes. Again he looked like McCree had just handed him the most precious gift the world had to offer. Even if it was just a slightly burnt bowl of eggplants and rice.

“Thank you…If only there was something I could do to repay...”

McCree chuckled, rocking back on his heels. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. If you gotta, maybe you can just buy me dinner some time. When this stakeout nonsense’s over.”

Hanzo nodded sharply. “Of course.”

McCree shook his head, and shoveled a hunk of eggplant in his mouth. After spending several long moments reeling thanks to the mushy insides being molten lava, he finally swallowed it down. He smiled through the pain. Not bad. About a thousand degrees too hot still, but not bad. 

“So, you gonna give it a try?” McCree asked as Hanzo continued to just stare in awestruck silence. 

“Oh, yes-” Hanzo said, snapped out of his trance momentarily. He picked up a bit with his chopsticks, selecting a small, probably not molten piece, and cautiously took a bite. His smile grew again, though this time simply warm and happy and contagious. “It is excellent. Thank you.” 

McCree beamed at a job well done. 

Hanzo could make McCree feel like the best man in the world with a simple smile. He appreciated everything McCree did, no matter how small. It more than countered how dodgy and aloof he could be sometimes. The bottom line was, McCree was eager to get to know him even better. Too bad they weren’t going to see each other again for the rest of the day. Poor Hanzo was stuck staking out the place with Gabe.

He could only imagine what that conversation had to be like.

* * *

“So.”

Hanzo jumped as Gabe’s growl broke a few hours of silence. He glanced over at the man, who now sported a crooked smirk on his lips. 

“You’re dating Jesse now,” Gabe said. His voice sounded even more like he was gargling rocks than usual, if that was even possible. There was something menacing about his tone. A sudden pang of something akin to panic hit Hanzo. McCree said they were like family, that Reyes was essentially his _dad_. And here he was, alone with him. Gabe- _Reaper_ the legendary black cloud of death. The lethal terrorist nanite zombie. 

How did he get himself into this position?

Why did he speak up now? After three hours of uninterrupted, professional quiet. The only time either of them spoke it was in regards to the surveillance, or the polite offering of a soda while raiding the mini fridge. 

Gabe leaned forward as the silence stretched on, distinctly awkward now. He rested his elbows on his knees, as Hanzo desperately searched for what possible kind of response he could have for that. 

“I suppose. Yes,” Hanzo said stiffly, trying not to let his voice betray him. He cleared his throat, his gaze darting between Gabe and the window. He half hoped the compound would suddenly erupt in chaos, sparing him from whatever this was. 

Gabe chuckled and leaned back. He took a sip from his water bottle, his voice sounding almost normal, at least by his standards, when he spoke again. “Good for you two. Kid could probably do with a little companionship.”

Hanzo blinked. While that reaction was not nearly as painful as he imagined, he still found himself at a loss for words. He finally reached for something. “We have not been...involved long.”

Gabe shrugged. “Yea. But you two seem like a good fit. Dumbass always had a knack for picking flighty idiots. I’ve been waiting for him to pull his head out of his ass. He wouldn’t even be forced to settle down somewhere if he hitched himself to someone who’s as big a wandering idiot as he is. No offense.”

“Uh. None taken?” Hanzo blinked. There was perhaps a little offense taken. But at the same time he couldn’t really deny it.

A black wisp of smoke drifted out from between Gabe’s teeth as he wheezed out a small laugh. “Just gotta look out. The kid has a pretty...keen sense of self preservation.”

Hanzo raised a brow. It seemed fairly evident that any one of them could be said to have a keen sense of self preservation; potential hero complexes aside. “How do you mean?”

Gabe breathed a melancholy a sigh. He fixed his gaze firmly out the grimy window, though Hanzo suspected his attention was far from focused on the warehouse. “He’s a fighter. He’s been scraping by on his own since before his balls even dropped.” He huffed another laugh at that, Hanzo frowned. Well, McCree and Reaper at least shared their crude sensibilities. Though it was disheartening to hear McCree had been on his own that long. Hanzo felt a little surprised he didn’t already know about that. Neither he or McCree were particularly keen on discussing their pasts, it seemed.

“Swear, the kid can smell danger coming. Got a sort of sixth sense. Could spot an ambush before seasoned soldiers three times his age could. Even in his daily life, I guess he always has his ear to the ground, trying to figure out when he needs to split. It’s kept him alive, even with that bounty he’s got now. But it leads to a lonely life. When I let him go, I was always hoping I’d hear from him someday. That he’d use his communicator beacon. But I knew he wouldn't. Damn kid...”

Hanzo studied Gabe’s face. He wasn’t too decayed today. Only a few small marks blotting his waxy gray skin. He looked solemn, or at least more serious than Hanzo usually saw. He seemed to have two settings: grumpy or sarcastic. Often both. Hanzo couldn’t quite decide if this new expression made him look more human or less.

“I don’t understand. Let him go? I thought McCree fled Overwatch before...uh…” Hanzo trailed off, unsure how to finish that particular thought. He supposed if anyone knew what exactly happened when Overwatch fell, it was the man sitting next to him.

“He did. Just, I caught him in the act. Never filed an official report or anything. Just let him do what I knew he had to. Everything was going to hell in a hand basket anyway. Probably saved his life, leaving when he did. Hell, I didn’t survive it, at least not in the traditional sense. Don’t blame him for not calling after I died,” he laughed. Hanzo cringed, it wasn’t even a cynical laugh, he sounded wholeheartedly amused by the fact that he somehow perished and became a half dead monstrosity. He supposed everyone dealt with adversity in their own way. 

“I-I see...” 

“Point is, he’s programmed to run. Don’t be surprised if you find you have to smack him upside the head and remind him that people care about him. Honestly I’m surprised he answered the recall at all. Took his damn time with it. Maybe he’s tired of being alone. Happens to all of us eventually.”

Hanzo sighed, turning his gaze back to the window, the truth of Gabe’s statement hitting a little too close to home. “Yes. It does.”

* * *

“So…” Genji said slowly, drawing the word out as long as possible. McCree raised a brow. 

Jack and Gabe were on surveillance duty. Though with how those two mooned at each other lately, McCree had some serious doubts about their efficacy watching the place alone together. Then again he supposed they kept it professional enough those years in Overwatch. Hanzo was off buying more groceries, and insisted on going alone. He had become more than a touch stir crazy. They all were. The damn Shimada Uncle really needed to throw them a bone.

“So?” McCree raised a brow.

“How are things going with you and Hanzo?” Genji demanded, leaning forward, as if it should have been obvious. 

McCree shrugged, suppressing a grin, thinking of their stolen kisses, the time spent watching movies, or cuddling in amiable silence.

“Oh, you know. Fuckin’ like bunnies whenever yall ain’t around.” McCree said.

Genji gave him a horrified look. “That’s not what I mean-”

“That Hanzo. Damn. He’s into some shit. Y’know why we ran out of whipped cream so fast? The other night he just...covered me-”

“JESSE FOR THE LOVE OF-” Genji interrupted, horrified, before a puzzled look dawned on his marred face. “Wait. Whipped cream? Hanzo’s lactose intolerant.”

McCree cursed internally, scrambling for some way to keep the lie going. “Y’don’t say? Huh. Guess that explains why he made me lick it off. Guy’s got like...a uh...feedin’ fetish or somethin-”

“A feeding-? AHG! No! I do not want to hear this!” Genji cried, springing to his feet, and slamming his hands over his ears. 

“Hey now, you’re the one who asked.”

“I meant like! Getting along! Bonding!”

“Ah...yeah, there’s been some light bondage-”

“BONDING. JESSE. FUCK.” Genji stormed off to the kitchen, grabbing his hair. “Excuse me while I throw up-”

As if on cue, the door opened, and Hanzo stepped inside, arms loaded up with groceries, brows raised. “I heard yelling…”

McCree beamed up at him, leaning forward off the couch. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Hey. D’ya remember to pick up more whipped cream?” McCree asked.

“Ah, yes, I did-” Hanzo said. Genji emitted a strangled noise of distress, but McCree kept his eyes stubbornly glued to Hanzo. 

Hanzo opened his mouth to speak, then just stared with wide eyed bewilderment. He closed and opened his mouth a few times, trying to find words. He glanced down at McCree, and back to the kitchen as the cowboy sat with his hands in his lap, grinning innocently. 

“Did…”

“Yeah darlin’?”

“...Did my brother just dive out the window…?”

McCree finally turned around, discovering the kitchen window open, and Genji gone. “Yep. Yep I believe he did…”

“ _Why…_ ”

“You know Genji. Always doin’ weird shit.”

Hanzo finally closed his mouth, giving McCree a suspicious look.”You mean to tell me you don’t know why I heard yelling and then Genji decided to flee _through the window_.”

McCree heaved himself to his feet, and relieved Hanzo a grocery bag, still smiling innocently. He walked to the kitchen, Hanzo trailing along behind. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. How’d the shoppin’ go?”

“I acquired everything on the list with relative ease. Except one thing. Because I could not read Reaper...er, Gabe’s handwriting…”

“Fair ‘nuff.” 

“Are we honestly not going to discuss why my brother jumped out the window.”

McCree chuckled, shaking his head. “Was just messin’ with him.” He opened the refrigerator and started stuffing vegetables inside. Hanzo began unloading his own bag of mostly dry goods, before he dug a can of whipped cream out, handing it to McCree, slowly.

“...Right. Why did we run out of whipped cream so quickly anyway?”

McCree snorted, tucking the can in the refrigerator door. Telling the whole truth for virtually the first time in either conversation: “Hell if I know…”

* * *

Gabriel silenced his buzzing alarm, glaring at it. Three AM. Time to go relieve Genji. He yawned as he slid out of bed as quietly as possible. The silver light of the moon poured in the windows, falling over Jack’s sleeping face. The man was still infuriatingly beautiful, and made all the more perfect by his scars. He resisted the urge to trail his fingers through Jack’s hair, but only barely. No reason to wake him. 

The moonlight gave him plenty to see by, so he could slip away without disturbing Jack or the cowboy asleep on the couch. But he made a detour to the refrigerator first. Better grab a bite before he left. The mini fridge at the stakeout spot didn’t have the most exciting array of snacks.

He cringed at the blinding refrigerator light. Once he was able to see again, he frowned at all the healthy vegetables and foods that required actual cooking. Though he cracked a smile when he spotted a new can of whipped cream. He grabbed it, tilted his head back, and squirted a pile of whipped cream straight into his mouth.

He put the can away and closed the refrigerator door, and nearly spit his mouthful of whipped cream out when he discovered Jack standing there. Since when was he so quiet?

Jack smirked at him, arms folded. “I thought you were creeping up on sixty, not sixteen…” he said quietly.

Gabe tried to glare, but it was impossible with his mouth so overfull with white fluff. So he opted to puff his cheeks out in defiance instead. Jack chuckled. 

“Uh, looks like you’re leaking a little there,” Jack said, gesturing to Gabriel’s face. Gabe raised a brow, then finally felt the slight tickle of stray cream trickling down his chin, no doubt from yet another hole in his face. Typical. 

Before he could wipe it off, Jack leaned forward with a mischievous grin. Gabe nearly choked as Jack licked the cream off his chin. Gabe finally swallowed down the mouthful, giving Jack a lecherous smirk, sliding his hands around the man’s waist. It was a shame they hadn’t had any _real_ alone time in a while...

“Goddamn. Y’know. Bein’ comfortable ‘n cute’s one thing but y’all’re disgustin’…” McCree chimed in from the darkness. Gabe and Jack exchanged wide eyed glances, unaware the cowboy had been awake. Gabe could see Jack’s cheeks turning scarlet, even in the darkened cabin as he covered his face with his hands. 

Gabe shrugged, opened the refrigerator, and took another shot of whipped cream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Ohey I'm not dead. Though the whole Hospital Bullshit set my entire existence back further than anticipated. Sorry for the wait. Unfortunately at this point in the semester I can now officially put this fic in the 'don't hold your breath' category, but I will finish it! It just may take a bit.  
> -Genji using his ninja skills to evade awkwardness is my new favorite if I do say so myself.  
> -This chapter is weirdly paced but I like it shut up


	11. Chapter 11

Hanzo walked the short distance from the cabin to a pleasant little babbling stream. The seemingly endless stakeout was making everyone a little stir crazy, and he was no exception. His uncle was either running a legitimate business, or doing a remarkable job hiding his crimes. Hanzo suspected both; it was a common Shimada tactic to run a legitimate business in tandem with their criminal activities. It made money laundering exponentially harder to detect, and they would get the revenue from the real business. Really a win-win. The family even wound up with a few enterprises that proved to be so successful they mostly withdrew any criminal activities from them, and held them as shining examples as how law abiding the Shimada family really was.

Hanzo, however, doubted his uncle’s business was one of those rare exceptions. He knew how his uncle’s previous endeavors operated. He could remember all of the family business with agonizing detail. He was supposed to become head of the clan at some point, after all. Forgetting any aspect was unacceptable. It was unpleasant after so many years having to dredge up those old memories, upsetting to realize how clearly he still remembered it, and annoying how little the knowledge seemed to be helping.

As heavily as reliving all of his training and grooming to become head of the Shimada family weighed on Hanzo, that was far from the only thing putting him off center.

After so many years alone, he found himself suddenly forced into the company of others. Constantly. Though he enjoyed McCree’s company, of course. Gabe and Jack even started growing on him after a while, as grim and strange as the pair was. Being around people constantly wore away at him. And then there was Genji. 

He tried to put the overwhelming torrent of thoughts and feelings about his brother out of his mind. It was simply...too much. Genji was alive. That was all that mattered.

Hanzo settled in the soft, damp grass next to the stream. Crystal clear water rolled over smooth, oval stones, rippling gently, causing light to dance across its surface. He stared at the shimmering patterns for a long while, letting his mind wander. His thoughts soon drifted to silk scarf. He spent more time than he cared to admit running the soft material through his fingers. He couldn’t remember the last time someone gave him a gift simply out of kindness. Sure, it would be stretching it to say McCree didn’t want anything from Hanzo, but by then it was abundantly clear that McCree would be getting it once they had a private moment regardless of the scarf. 

As if the scarf wasn’t enough, then he had to go and make Hanzo dinner. He had been scrambling for some way to repay the cowboy ever since, but McCree didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Any time Hanzo so much as hinted at needing to repay McCree, he would just flash that easy going smile of his, steal a kiss and say they were as good as even.

There was something tranquil about McCree. Like the stream, he put Hanzo’s mind at ease. Only unlike the stream he had soft lips, a firm muscular torso, and an intoxicating scent. McCree clearly had his own set of worries and troubles. Issues Hanzo began trying to carefully unearth one at a time. Hanzo felt at a disadvantage: everyone knew about his and Genji’s drama. Pretty much the worst part of Hanzo’s entire history was already public knowledge. Then again he didn’t talk much about the rest of his history. Much as how McCree still hadn’t shared what precisely happened with Overwatch or any of that catastrophe which seemed to loom over the group. None of them were particularly keen to discuss their pasts.

Just a bunch of lonely outcasts and misfits drawn together by fate. Hanzo couldn’t complain.

Except when Gabe would start incessantly bouncing his foot or pacing while they were staking out the warehouse. _That_ was annoying.

Hanzo finally let his eyes slide shut, settling into his meditation. He let all the thoughts rattling around in his head drift away, focusing on the soft trickle of water. He remained there for some time, emptying his overcrowded mind, before he heard the soft pad of footfalls approaching behind him.

“Mind if I join you?” Genji asked. Hanzo glanced over his shoulder and nodded. How could he say no?

Genji settled down on the grass next to him, back impeccably straight, his hands settled in his lap. Hanzo closed his eyes, trying to turn back to his own meditation, but found himself distracted. Soon enough his gaze wandered to Genji, staring at his brother in disbelief. 

“I can feel you watching me, Hanzo…” Genji said, cracking an eye open, the corner of his scarred mouth twitching upwards. 

“I apologize it’s just...I am surprised to see you meditate. Voluntarily,” Hanzo said, suddenly realizing they were speaking Japanese. It was natural, of course, for him and his brother to converse in their native tongue. But they hadn’t lately. They were always in the presence of Genji’s friends. It was...pleasant.

“Much has changed, Brother,” Genji said. “Despite what my...ill conceived party may have suggested.” 

Hanzo shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. The evening was surprisingly fun. “I don’t know, the party seemed to be a success over all. The hangovers aside.” 

Genji shook his head with a chuckle. “I suppose it wasn’t the worst. A good reminder of why I left those days behind.”

Hanzo hummed, nodding solemnly. “Yes, well, it was still different from before. Good people. No prostitutes or drugs. And I was invited.”

Genji blinked rapidly, processing Hanzo’s words. “I guess you never were invited… I’m sorry-”

Hanzo held up his hand. The last thing he wanted to hear was Genji apologizing for something like that. “I believe it was understood between us I would not have attended regardless of any invitation.”

“Still. Rude of me.”

“We were far from friends by that time.”

Genji shook his head. “I suppose not…”

The conversation faded away, the soft sounds of the stream filling the space. Hanzo turned back to his meditation, his eyes sliding shut. The two sat in comfortable silence for a long while. It was...surprisingly pleasant. Meditating with his brother. To be in his presence without having the guilt, grief and misery clawing at his mind. It was nothing short of a miracle to have Genji back, to know he had not killed his brother. But seeing Genji, and what he had become brought with it its own unique pain. For the moment, at least, he was able to set it aside.

“You smile when you’re with him.” Genji’s voice broke the silence. 

Hanzo blinked, glancing at Genji, momentarily puzzled.

“When you’re with Jesse. I was beginning to think you’d lost the ability to smile.”

“Ah…” Hanzo trailed off, trying to chase the color from his cheeks. “Of course I can still smile. I’ve just had very little to smile about.”

“It just took a ridiculous cowboy to draw it out of you.”

Hanzo chuckled, despite himself. “He is indeed ridiculous.”

“But he is a good man. I’m happy for you,” Genji said warmly, studying his brother. Hanzo looked away with a huff.

“You and Gabriel speak as if we are getting married tomorrow. We’ve only known each other a short time.”

“I know. But I’m still glad to see you happy, even if it’s just for now.” After a few quiet beats, Genji raised a brow. “Wait. Gabe talked to you about it? That must have been... stressful.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Hanzo said, training his face into a perfect, impassive mask. “It was terrifying.”

Genji laughed. “Well, you seem to have survived. As I said, it is good to see you happy.”

Hanzo sighed, that quiet cloud of misery he’d been struggling so diligently to fight off settled over him. Genji’s voice was different now. Older and wiser, sure, but there was something altered and artificial, even without the mask and visor. An unfamiliar ear probably couldn’t even catch it, but Hanzo could. He could see the glint of metal along Genji’s jaw is he spoke. And it was Hanzo’s doing. “I do not deserve happiness…” Hanzo muttered, before he could stop himself. Genji shook his head.

“Now you’re the one being absurd.”

“I tried to murder you.”

“And I have forgiven you. I will say it again, you must forgive yourself, brother..”

“But how? How can you forgive me? For what I did?” Hanzo snapped, turning to face his brother again. 

A small, sad smile worked its away across Genji’s lips as he watched the water glide over the stones. “It took time. And reflection. A person can’t stay angry forever. It eats away at your soul. It deprives you of your life. I was angry at a lot of things. For a very long time. Honestly, yours was an easy face to attach to half of the things I was so mad at. But I came to realize you were just as trapped as I was...” Genji trailed off, smiling wistfully. Hanzo stared down at his hands, an overwhelming sense of shame washing over him, despite his brother’s gentle smile.

“Do you remember the lady with the confection shop? The one who would always give us free sweets?” Genji asked.

“Vaguely,” Hanzo looked up, startled by the change in topic. “Why?”

“I liked her. I thought she was the kindest, most lovely person. She always seemed so warm and gentle. I aspired to be like her. Just a kind and generous person. A person who gave kids free sweets just to see them smile.”

Hanzo nodded slowly. “An admirable goal…”

Genji laughed, a tinge of bitterness creeping into his otherwise peaceful and even tone. “Until one day. I saw one of father’s men beating her husband. I didn’t know why. I suppose I have some guesses now, but that day I realized something terrible. She wasn’t kind to me because she was generous and warm. She did it because she was afraid of our family. She was afraid of me. I was just a boy, and she was afraid of me.”

Hanzo gazed down at the stream, watching the crystal clear water ripple and twist around the stones. He tried to conjure an image of the woman in his mind. He hadn’t cared about the free sweets the same way his brother did, clearly. They had all the food and treats they wanted back at home, within reason. All he had to do was ask one of the staff if he wanted something particular. He could even get sweets from that woman’s shop. He felt a sinking sense of shame creep into his gut as her face illuded him. Whispers in the back of his mind tried to reassure him, he had been young, it’s perfectly natural to forget such things. But he knew the real reason; he simply hadn’t cared enough to give her a second glance.

“Suddenly her sweets didn’t taste good anymore. I stopped visiting her shop. She probably thought I was upset with her. Or perhaps that I had finally outgrown my sweet tooth. But I didn’t want to scare her. I didn’t want her to feel like she had to give me anything.”

“I am...sorry-” Hanzo started, but Genji shook his head, chuckling faintly.

“I didn’t know what to do with the realization as a boy. I didn’t know what to do with it as a teenager either. I obviously didn’t know what to do with it while I was neck deep in drugs and groupies. And I was furious at you. For not seeing what I saw. Every time I would try to speak of the wrongs our family committed you were dismissive. But I was inarticulate and brash and you...Our family had their hooks in you the second you were born. You never stood a chance. I, on the other hand, was their little sparrow. Everyone says I was a free spirit, but the truth was I was trying to escape. I don’t know, I suppose I was looking for something. And it all started with that woman. And her sweets.”

Hanzo sat in silence, trying to process Genji’s story. He could remember a time, back when they were boys, and still friends. Genji came running home, upset, and locked himself in his room. He refused to come out the rest of the day, and when Hanzo finally coaxed him out the next morning, Genji lashed out at him. Yelling about how everyone was mean and stupid. Hanzo, being an immature boy himself, returned Genji’s hostility in kind. It wasn’t the first time the boys had fought, by any means. But it felt different that day. Looking back he would mark it as something of the beginning of the end of their friendship. Now he had to wonder if that was the day Genji described.

It would make sense in a sad sort of way. If Genji had this reality altering realization and tried to express his anger, only to have Hanzo dismiss him, thinking he was just being a moody jerk. Neither had been particularly adept at expressing their feelings.

“It was only after I traveled, and met Master Zenyatta that I felt...at peace. I’m a new man now…In more ways than one.” The faintest ghost of a smile trailed across Genji’s face. Hanzo narrowed his eyes.

“...Was that. A cyborg joke.” Hanzo asked stiffly.

“Maybe.” Genji grinned, shaking his head. It was definitely a cyborg joke. “But the truth is, I wouldn’t be the man I am today if it weren’t for that woman. If it weren’t for father, and for you. My path has been winding, but it has made me who I am today. That is why I forgive you. I forgive father. I forgive the candy lady.”

Hanzo focused on the stream, unable to look at his brother. He felt the slightest tinge of pain in his hand, only to realize he’d been gripping the material of his pants so hard it was a wonder the fabric hadn’t torn yet. He unclenched his fists, gently smoothing out the wrinkles. He felt like he should say something, but words failed him. Genji seemed to sense this and stretched, starting to get to his feet. He placed a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. 

“I should get back. Thank you for letting me disturb your meditation, Brother.”

“O-of...of course…” Hanzo managed to stammer as Genji’s soft footfalls padded away. 

Hanzo sat perfectly still, his eyes stinging with tears that refused to fall, his muscles frozen in place. He felt as if he moved reality would shatter. 

Genji forgave him, truly forgave him. The reality finally began to sink in. He always believed him, to an extent. While he still couldn’t fully understand his motives, his brother was nothing if not sincere. But if Genji could forgive him, why couldn’t he forgive himself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Finallyy an updaaate. Don't expect the next one probably until winter break! But you never know, miracles can happen?  
> -Angst intermission before we return to the humor.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit an update? I might...suggest refreshing a couple chapters as it has been 2000 years...Give or take.

Hanzo stubbornly ignored the creak of McCree’s chair as he rocked back again. And again...and again. Creak, _creak_ , creak, _creak_. He was waiting for the wobbly wooden legs to break under the cowboys considerable weight. But they held strong for now. 

The surveillance wasn’t going well, it was hard for anyone to take it seriously anymore. To say they were all going stir crazy was a bit of an understatement. McCree, Hanzo, Jack and Gabe were all unaccustomed to staying in any one one place for very long in general. Their seemingly endless vigil over a very ordinary and very boring warehouse trapped in a small room for hours at a time was testing their sanity.

Finally McCree rocked forward with a thump. “Man, I’m gettin’ hungry, want somethin’?” he asked, heaving himself out of the chair. Hanzo nodded, it had been a while, and they were going to be on stakeout duty for another couple hours still.

Hanzo kept an eye on the warehouse as McCree rummaged through their food stash, not that he would have any chance of seeing anything. Hanzo’s uncle was just too damn cautious, they were trying to come up with new plans of attack, nothing was working so far. And while Hanzo had things he _wanted_ to do trapped alone in a room with McCree, that just wouldn’t be very professional.

Though who was he kidding, thought? They were all sure Jack and Gabe were spending their alone time doing anything but watching the warehouse. 

“Let’s see here. Looks like our options are…” McCree said, accompanied by the rustle of groceries and the mini fridge opening a few times. “Eh, ramen...fancier ramen...uh. Some sort of instant soup? Kinda looks like split pea? Who the hell bought this- aw damn the bread’s gone mouldy...So. Veggie cup noodle, yak-ee soba, or weird soup?”

Hanzo shook his head at the pronunciation, biting back a smile. He finally peered over his shoulder at McCree. “Remind me to go shopping. I guess the yakisoba?”

McCree beamed at him. “Comin’ right up partner,” he said, firing a finger gun Hanzo’s way. 

A few minutes later, a little steaming cardboard bowl was thrust into Hanzo’s hands, along with a pair of chopsticks. He thanked McCree, poking the flaccid noodles. It really wasn’t bad as far as instant noodles went, but it still put Hanzo off. Usually McCree cooking for him was a delight. However, this was an exception. 

He harbored a bit of an...irrational resentment towards instant noodles. When he discovered their existence as a boy he adored them. He felt they were nearly magical. He didn’t need to call on any staff, all he needed to do was boil water, and he had an instant meal. What more could someone ask for? But as his palate matured, he grew to truly appreciate his family's cooks. He developed an appreciation for fine dining, and never really learned to cook for himself. 

Living life as a figurative meant he still ate out frequently, but usually it was take out from whatever place wouldn’t notice his presence. He couldn’t risk going to any of his favorite restaurants back in Japan. Not that his budget would allow such expenditures on a regular basis. Usually it was simplest to just buy something that didn’t require preparation and eat alone in whatever safe house he was using at the moment. Even when he had access to something better than an electric kettle and a microwave, his attempts to learn to cook almost always ended in failure. Simply following some recipe shouldn’t be so hard, but there was some knack he just lacked. Which meant hundreds, no, undoubtedly thousands of cartons of instant noodles over the years.

Saying he was sick of them would be an understatement.

Not only that they slowly became a symbol. They reminded him of everything he once had, everything he lost. The life he wished he could have back but also the life that destroyed him.

“I didn’t poison ‘em I swear,” McCree said as he plopped back down in his chair with a crooked grin, catching Hanzo glaring down at the offending meal.

“Sorry, I just...you have no idea how many of these things I’ve eaten,” Hanzo finally explained, picking up one of the noodles with a scowl. “This may come as a surprise to you, but, I am not really a good cook,” he said flatly, McCree folded over with a sputtering laugh, before beginning to cough and wheeze.

“Goddamn, I swear I have a noodle in my sinuses now auhg, it burns-” McCree choked out as Hanzo chuckled, patting the cowboy on the shoulder. 

“Serves you right for laughing at me.”

“‘M sorry darlin’ you’re just...damn near the worst cook I’ve ever met.”

Hanzo smiled. “Only nearly?”

“Okay, maybe the worst.”

Hanzo grunted with satisfaction, he shouldn’t be proud of being the worst cook in the world, but it was something of an accomplishment. Though he _had_ learned how to spruce up instant noodles over the years. He gave the noodles one more poke before getting up from his chair to examine the mini fridge.

“Sorry, no hot sauce left in there. I looked,” McCree said, watching over his shoulder. Hanzo shrugged, continuing his hunt anyway. The refrigerator was a...disappointment, but he found the sandwich condiments and pulled out the mayonnaise and mustard. These would do…

“Darlin’...what…” McCree asked, eyeing his selections. Hanzo raised a brow, scooping some of the mayonnaise into the bowl. 

“What?”

“Darlin’...Honeybear...Sweetie, _no_ ,” McCree said, his eyes wide with horror as Hanzo picked up the mustard.

“‘Honeybear’?” Hanzo added a squirt of mustard, and began stirring in the condiments, staring McCree down.

“What on earth are you doin’?” McCree asked, scandalized.

“Have you never had mayonnaise mustard flavored yakisoba? It is not uncommon…” Hanzo said as McCree continued to look on in horror.

“What? No!”

“I have seen it in American stores.”

“Y’don’t put mustard on noodles, Hanzo.”

“It’s good!” Hanzo insisted, returning to his seat next to the cowboy, who leaned away from the offending bowl of noodles dramatically.

“That ain’t right.”

“You should taste it. This is perhaps not the...best mustard for the job but it is still good,” Hanzo said. Lifting some noodles with his chopsticks, causing McCree to lean away even further, his chair creaking. 

“That right there’s an abomination,” McCree said.

“Now you’re just being juvenile.”

“I ain’t the one smotherin’ my ramen in mustard,” McCree chuckled.

“Try it,” Hanzo insisted, scooting closer. 

“No thank you,” McCree said, finally running out of space to lean. Hanzo used this to his advantage, drawing closer, picking up fresh noodles to tempt McCree.

“It’s good,” he said, sliding out of his chair to encroach on McCree’s personal space. Such an over the top response, of course, begged an over the top answer. 

“Naw, I’m good. Keep your weird noodles away from me.”

Soon enough Hanzo found himself sitting on McCree’s lap, as the cowboy half heartedly tried to ward him off, laughing as Hanzo tried to feed him the yakisoba, their task of watching the warehouse all but forgotten. McCree leaned back, tipping the chair, the legs creaking dangerously. 

“If you do not eat the noodles, you are going to break the chair,” Hanzo said, biting back his grin as McCree braced himself on the wall.

“Y’know? I think that’s a risk I’m willin’ to take—” 

“Hey guys! Change of plan—” Genji’s voice chimed as he appeared in the doorway, but neither took any notice.

“Eat it!”

“Never!”

“What the _FUCK!_ No! Hanzo! What is _wrong with you!_ ” Genji yelled, “is that _MUSTARD I SMELL?_ Hanzo! Why! Wait, no, I don’t want to know!”

Hanzo stared at his brother, baffled, still awkwardly straddling McCree as the cowboy threw his head back in laughter. 

“I...what...you like mayonnaise mu— Has everyone lost their minds?” He finally started down McCree, punching him in the shoulder as he started to turn red from laughter. “What’s so funny?”

“Keep to your disgusting sex play on your own time!” Genji snapped.

“My _what_?” Hanzo stared at his brother.

“I...Genji...” McCree managed to sputter out, before his wheezing laughter choked off his air supply again. “Genji, I was just messin’ with you,” he finally managed, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Hanzo don’t got a feedin’ kink.”

Hanzo’s eyes went wide and he lept off of McCree’s lap. “A _WHAT?_ ” He turned a fierce glare on McCree, which temporarily stifled his laughter, though giggles started bubbling back up to the surface almost immediately. “You told. My brother. I have a…‘ _feeding kink’?_ What even is that?!”

“It was a joke!”

“So, you don’t have a feeding kink…” Genji clarified. 

“No! Of course not! How...Why did you even come up with that!” Hanzo demanded, furious. Of all the humiliating things to be accused of. Though by now McCree was nearly turning purple, it was a little hard to stay mad in the face of his mirth. There was something uniquely absurd about the whole thing. Whatever a feeding kink was, indulging it with instant noodles and mustard held a certain level of depravity. It was no wonder Genji was horrified.

“I dunno, Genji was bein’ nosey, it just kinda happened.”

“So you tell him...perverse lies about me?”

“‘M sorry Darlin’ but it got ‘im to drop it,” McCree offered, still trying to put a lid on his laughter and failing.

“It is true…” Genji sighed.

Hanzo groaned running a hand down his face. “And you believed him?” Hanzo snapped, turning his gaze to Genji. He was wearing his full face mask, rendering his expression unreadable, but he still looked defensive, raising his hands in surrender. 

“I don’t know! It’s not like we talk a lot,” Genji offered meekly. It stung more than Hanzo would have expected, he was right though. They barely spoke, that’s probably why he was even bothering McCree for information to begin with, trying to learn things about Hanzo through someone who he would actually talk to. 

McCree reached for Hanzo’s hand, gently pulling him down, apparently trying to coax him back into his lap. “Darlin’ I’m sorry...figured he’d know I was jokin’…” 

Hanzo felt odd about being affectionate in front of his brother. Then again, refusing to act like a human around his brother was what caused this mess in the first place, so he relented. Why was it so strange to act affectionate around Genji? He never felt that way when they were young, not that he had many people in his life to act affectionate towards...

No. No. Hanzo refused to sink into his usual pit of guilt and despair because his idiot boyfriend managed to convince his idiot brother that he had some sort of horrifying food fetish.

Hanzo pursed his lips, looking from the bowl of noodles in his hand and back to McCree’s apologetic grin. How had this all gotten started again? He had been trying to feed McCree, that much was accurate at least. But only because he was being an obstinate ass.

“A feeding kink...Hmpf. You both have...depraved minds,” Hanzo muttered.

“Hey! McCree was the one who said it!” Genji defended.

“But you were the one who believed it,” Hanzo snapped back.

“Darlin’ don’t be mad at him, this is all my fault,” McCree said. Hanzo snapped his gaze back on him, sharp enough to make him lean back in his chair.

“Yes. It is. But I will forgive you…if…” Hanzo said, a wicked glint flashing into his eye, “you try the _damn noodles!_ ” With that Hanzo took the bowl and mashed it into McCree’s face. McCree lurched back with a startled yelp, causing the chair’s poor, beleaguered leg to finally give with a loud snap. The two men tumbled to the ground, the bowl tearing and noodles flying in their graceless decent to the floor. 

Now was Hanzo’s turn to laugh, as he rolled off McCree who lay dumbstruck on his back next to the broken chair, yakisoba stuck to his face and beard. He was so caught up in his own laughter, he didn’t notice Genji had joined in for several moments, and even then the metallic edge to his mirth that usually haunted Hanzo didn’t bother him at all.

Finally McCree sat up, clearing his throat. “Guess I deserved that.”

“Yes. You did.”

The cowboy chuckled, picking one of the longer noodles from his beard and stuffing it in his mouth. He chewed for a few moments, looking thoughtful. “Y’know, that ain’t half bad.”

“I told you.”

Hanzo stood slowly, brushing himself off as if nothing remotely unusual had just happened. He extended a hand, helping McCree to his feet before turning to his brother, while McCree started eating what unspilled yakisoba remained with his fingers.

“I believe you said something about a change of plan?” Hanzo asked.

It took Genji a moment to stifle his laughter, shaking his head. “Yes, the bug Gabe planted finally gave up something useful. You two should come back to base so we can finalize our plans.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's not blindingly obvious my inspiration for this thing died a little. I'm determined to finish, but my plans have been pared down substantially. But that shouldn't impact you guys, because you never knew them to start! Hah! But thanks to anyone who's stuck around. Hopefully I'll get this done sooner rather than later. We'll see! Either way, I hope you enjoyed!


	13. Chapter 13

Hanzo paced noiselessly across the warehouse roof, crouched low, the others quietly checking in over his earpiece as they made their positions. Luckily, the skylights were still open. He flipped the eyepiece of his heat enhanced night vision visor down as he approached the windows, giving him a view inside the warehouse, the warm shapes of the guards glowing brightly. Seemed the old Overwatch tech still did the job quite nicely. 

Despite his uncle’s ample security and jammers, they finally got a lead. About a week before Gabriel, without consulting the group, and recklessly at ‘great personal risk’ according to an irate Jack, had slipped onto the roof and quite literally dropped one of Sombra’s specialized “static piercing bugs” inside. It wasn’t in a great place, and was difficult to monitor, but they finally had it. Tonight a high value weapons trade was going down. And Hanzo’s uncle was going to be there to oversee it personally. They finally had what they needed, and were finally going to make their move.

Hanzo quietly called out the positions of all the guards. There were a few out of position from where they predicted they would be. One in particular stood directly in front of Genji’s supposed entry point.

“Which entry point should I use?” Genji’s low voice asked over the com.

“I got a bead on him, could take him out,” McCree suggested.

“Absolutely not, cowboy, you are the least stealthy member of this team keep your six shooter quiet unless things go sideways,” Gabriel hissed.

“Is that why y’all got me on the sidelines?” McCree asked.

“Yes,” Gabriel snapped back.

“Quiet chatter, everyone.” Jack interjected.

“Right, making my entry, I’ll see if I can spot a route for the ninja” Gabriel muttered. Hanzo blinked, he’d obviously seen Gabriel’s wraith powers before, but seeing the roiling, strangely cool cloud slide through the cracks of the warehouse door through his heat vision was certainly a unique perspective. As the mass pulled together he glowed a little brighter on Hanzo’s night vision, but he still didn’t seem to put out as much heat as the other...normal humans. 

With Reaper in position he read off the locations of guards Hanzo couldn’t see.

“Hm... can you make it to delta position unseen,” Jack suggested. Hanzo frowned at the suggestion, he’d have to sneak past no fewer than three guards from his current vantage point. Not that he didn’t believe his brother could manage it. 

“Probably-”

“Wait,” Hanzo interjected. “The north window is unguarded, that and the sight line to the other guards is poor. You should make your entry there.”

“No!” Genji snapped. Hanzo blinked, there was something about that tone that threw him straight back to Japan, in their home, lecturing Genji for some new transgression, telling him he needed to fulfill his familial duties. He shook the feeling off, surveying the warehouse, wondering what his brother could see that he couldn’t.

“Actually, from what I see on the feed, that’s a good plan,” Jack said.

“Oh- yeah, right. Sorry. Telling Hanzo to stuff it is just reflex. I’ll make my way there,” Genji said.

“ _What…?_ ” Hanzo’s jaw fell open, blinking. Some professionalism. He supposed the uncanny tone of defiance and anger was familiar for a reason. He heard what could have only been a muffled snicker, or possibly two over the com, he couldn’t tell the source. 

“Y’all really have the healthiest relationship, it’s amazin’,” McCree drawled lowly.

“Don’t worry Hanzo, I would have tried to murder him too,” Gabriel said.

“Hey!” Genji snapped back, edging on almost being too loud, but still a restrained, if infuriated whisper.

“Everyone. Stop the chatter-” Jack’s ever professional voice cut back in. Hanzo shook his head, tracking Gabriel’s position until his faint shape disappeared behind some crates, apparently staying on mission while still making off color remarks. 

“That’s not funny!” Genji hissed.

“Ehh, it’s kinda funny,” McCree said.

“Guys. Chatter. Stop.”

“Jack, don’t be such a stick in the mud,” McCree said.

“I’m serious! And don’t you people believe in code names anymore? Someone could have compromised this channel!” Jack snapped.

A woman’s voice chimed in, much to Hanzo’s alarm. “Nah, you’re safe, I’m the only intruder in here.” At least the voice was familiar, though it took Hanzo a second to put his finger on it: Sombra. It took Jack considerably less time.

“Are you kidding me? Are you _always_ listening?”

“It’s kinda my thing?”

“So what, should I just preemptively send you my sex tape?”

“Jack, honey, you don’t have a sex tape…” Sombra purred.

“I _really_ don’t like how confident you are about that. Have you _looked?_ ”

Sombra only responded with a low chuckle, instead Gabriel cut in. “Hey, hey...Jack…”

“What!” The exasperation in Jack’s voice was practically palatable.

“Quiet chatter,” Gabriel said, his grin apparent through his tone.

This time the muffled wheeze of a laugh seemed to come from McCree, while Jack let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“This is why Overwatch fell,” the old soldier grumbled.

With that a barked laugh rang out through the warehouse, loud enough that even Hanzo could hear it from his rooftop position _without_ the aid of the com. Hanzo’s eyes widened as several of the guards looked around, though none seemed too concerned about laughter.

“What was that! That was too loud! Are you compromised? Report!” Jack’s near desperate whisper asked.

Gabriel’s barely stifled wheezing laughter came through the com as he tried to respond. “I- I was standing right behind a guard. Guy about pissed himself...god...situation’s handled-” he managed to sputter out before his wheezed giggles choked off the rest of his words.

“Is this always how you ran Blackwatch?” Jack asked, not sounding like he expected a response. But he got one anyway.

“Yeah. Pretty much,” McCree offered.

Hanzo ran a hand down his face, his exasperation matched by the beleaguered sigh Jack emitted. He saw the faint outline of Gabriel dragging an unconscious body behind some different crates, stuffing his hapless victim awkwardly into a dark corner. The image wobbled slightly, with what Hanzo could only assume was Gabriel’s shoulders shaking with his barely suppressed giggles. 

He was truly in league with consummate professionals.

Finally they managed to get back on track. Hanzo was able to silently open the skylight wider so he had a clear shot at most of the guards. Genji was able to gain entry through the window while Gabriel systematically drifted through the lower levels, silently incapacitating guards. 

It seemed the moment the two on the inside took care of the last of the guards McCree alerted that a truck was approaching the warehouse. Uncle Shimada was running ahead of schedule. Genji was far out of position for this event, and he couldn’t even tell where Gabriel was. 

One of the several cargo doors opened, letting a fairly small delivery truck inside. Hanzo took out his bow, readied an arrow and watched, ready to strike as needed. Out of position or not, their plan hasn't yet been compromised. Hanzo’s uncle and one of his men climbed from the truck. Leave it to him to be early. At least the buyer hadn’t arrived first, then their plan would really have been shot.

He blinked as a new, but familiar shape crept up to the truck, sliding in under the cargo door as it lowered shut.

“Soldier, what are you doing?” Hanzo asked as the man crept, amazingly silently and smoothly, to the driver’s side of the truck, and slipped inside. He started doing something inside, Hanzo could only guess he was hot wiring it? This wasn’t part of the plan.

Hanzo’s uncle rounded the back of the truck, and rolled open the door. Then, from nowhere, Gabriel appeared. Hanzo recoiled at the bright flash in his visor as the man’s shotgun went off, the uncle’s bodyguard crumpling to the ground, as Gabriel tackled the startled crime boss into the back of the truck. The truck roared to life and lurched forward, tires squealing as it slammed into the door, metal shrieking and clanging as the truck ripped its way through. 

This _really_ wasn’t part of the plan. 

Hanzo shook off his dismay and ran to the edge of the warehouse, seeing spots, but still trying to take aim at the truck’s tires. But it was too late, it turned the corner and disappeared into the city streets.

“McCree! Do you have a shot?!” Hanzo exclaimed. 

“I got no sight line- what’s goin on!”

“Sorry boys, nothing personal, but we have business with Mr. Shimada here. We can’t let Overwatch have him just yet. I really am sorry. It was nice getting to see you two again, I mean that. And finally meeting you, Hanzo. You take care. All of you. I’m sure we’ll see each other again some time,” Gabriel’s voice came over the com, before it cut off with a burst of static. He probably destroyed the com. The other three sat in dumbfounded silence for a long while, as the sounds truck engine faded into the distance. 

“What just happened?” Genji finally asked.

“Seems they had their own plan. I really should’a seen that comin’...” McCree muttered. “Damnit...Let’s head back to the cabin…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit 400 years later sliding in with the update yeet  
> Next chapter will probably actually be sooner rather than later (though the recommendation against breath holding still stands)


End file.
